Just One
by I-Can-Spell-Confusion-With-A-K
Summary: I sometimes make mistakes. Just one mistake, Granger. Just one. When Hermione goes looking for help in all the wrong places she just hopes she can learn from her mistakes. Draco knows sometimes all it takes is just one mistake to ruin a life.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This started as a stand alone, but due to requests it has been extended. The plot for this fic was constructed in reverse order, so what was the beginning will also eventually be the end. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I hope you guys like what I do with your inspiration! Reviews would be appreciated: )

"You never did love me did you?"

"Guess not."

"How can you just stand there and say that to me?"

"Easy, Granger. One syllable at a time…"

"You could have broken it off without being so cruel."

"Really? Is there a way to say 'I don't want you anymore' that's not cruel?"

"Guess not."

"There you go Granger, use my words against me. You'll be back in top form in no time."

"How can you do this to me?"

"Just when I thought we were making progress."

"Stop it! Draco please…"

"Now, now Granger, no need for the pleasantries anymore. You should be happy, you can call me Malfoy again, or even ferret if you prefer."

"What happened to you? Why are you doing this?"

"This is how it's meant to be, Granger. Face it, we've always hated each other, some misplaced passion just got in the way for awhile."

"No!"

"Yes."

"You were kind to me…"

"An act, and a useful one when it came to getting a taste of that elusive, forbidden Mudblood essence."

"You were happy with me…"

"I was satisfied with the skill I'd shown in my latest conquest."

"You…"

"Used you."

"No! You…"

"Despised you even while I was touching you."

"No! No! Stop it! You…"

"Couldn't wait for this moment when I could break it off."

"You loved me."

"No."

"You loved me."

"I didn't."

"You loved me."

"Take the hint, Granger! I didn't love you! I hate you!"

"You loved me, Draco. You still do. You love me."

"Draco?"

"I knew it. You do love me...you don't have to do this…we can fix this."

"You're wrong."

"Draco! Wait!"

"You said it yourself Granger, I never did love you."

"I sometimes make mistakes."

"Just one."

"What?"

"Just one mistake, Granger. Just one."


	2. Chapter 2

Due to requests from those reviewed, this story has been extended…so what was the beginning will actually end up being the end as well. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, there will be at least a few more chapters. Enjoy!

It had all started so innocently.

Sixth year was not going the way Hermione Granger had imagined it would. Outside the walls of Hogwarts an atmosphere of fear and suspicion was mounting as the seemingly inevitable war came ever closer. Inside the school her best friends seemed to have forgotten she existed. She hated herself sometimes for feeling that way, it was such a silly, girly set of emotions she was experiencing…jealousy, and stubbornness, and abandonment. But still, being called the smartest witch of her age didn't make Hermione any less of a girl, and it certainly didn't make her any less human. She was hurt and lonely and denying it didn't make it any less true.

Ron was hard to distinguish these days from his…_oh how she hated to say it_… girlfriend, Lavender Brown. Lavender was often wrapped so closely around him that the two blended together into a monstrous vision that haunted Hermione's nightmares. She tried not to focus too much on this particular betrayal and why it hurt so much, but she didn't have much to go on in way of distractions. Harry was little better than Ron, obsessed not with a girl but with catching Draco Malfoy at some evil plot. Harry was convinced that Malfoy was a mastermind plotting on behalf of the Dark Lord, an idea that Hermione frankly found laughable. He was a cruel git, but beyond that she saw no threat coming from Malfoy. She thought Harry was wasting time and energy on a dead end, when he could be focusing on their real enemies, or at least on his studies.

Studies. That was another thing that plagued Hermione's mind. If she had allowed herself to be taken by surprise by the difficulty of dealing with wars, and friends, and boys, the one thing she should have remained absolutely in control of was her schoolwork. And yet, excelling at even homework, and tests, and classes seemed to be eluding Hermione this year, and that was perhaps the worst blow of all. It wasn't that she was doing _poorly_ exactly, it was just that she wasn't working up to her normal standards, and some classes were giving her more trouble than others. It was just that she was so distracted! Between pouring over the Daily Prophet searching for reassurance that no one they knew had been killed, watching Ron and Lavender suck each other's faces off, and listening to Harry rattle on about Malfoy…until of course they'd argued about it, and he'd almost completely stopped talking to her as well.

"_Hermione, he's up to something!" Harry's voice rose in pitch, and he jabbed a finger angrily at the Marauder's Map. "Look, right there! He's hanging around the Room of Requirement again!"_

"_That doesn't prove anything Harry." Hermione tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice, but realized she was probably failing. "There could be plenty of reasons he's using the room, after all, we used it ourselves last year…"_

"_That's different!" Harry exclaimed, as though that should be obvious. "Hermione, we're talking about Malfoy here. When's he ever done anything harmless in his life?"_

"_I'm sure he's doing something he shouldn't be." Hermione agreed, trying to placate her friend. "But that doesn't mean it's actually evil you know."_

"_But I heard him on the train!" Harry protested, folding the map and shooting her a frustrated glance that Hermione had no trouble returning._

"_You heard him bragging without cause, just like we've heard him do for the past six years, Harry! If you want to spend your time staring at a little dot on that map then that's fine, but I have to study!" And with that she stomped out of the common room, knowing full well that it had been weeks since she'd been able to study without taking a break to cry out of loneliness and frustration. That night would be no different. _

After that, Harry like Ron were distant at best, and though they didn't fully stop speaking to her, Hermione had never felt more alone in her life. She'd gone through periods of estrangement from one or the other of her best friends before, but never both at once. That was the state she found herself in when she received an announcement that did nothing to improve her mood.

"As you know," Professor Snape, newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, began the class with a bored sneer that Hermione would have hated had she not been so tired that she was only a moment from falling asleep on her desk. "Your instruction in this subject has been spotty at best. In order to prepare you for whatever may await you outside of these halls, Dumbledore has requested that in addition to your normal testing, an increased emphasis be put on practical applications and evasive skills."

Hermione vaguely registered the fact that this would mean increased work and felt no joy at the idea, only a hollow sort of exhaustion that was both physical and emotional.

"I would explain further, but some of you seem to have decided that your attention is not required. Sleeping is not an acceptable use of my class time…"

Hermione froze, her eyes still focused squarely on her desk. Had she dozed off again? Was Snape about to humiliate her in front of her fellow Gryffindors and worse, the Slytherins?

"…Mr. Malfoy." Snape finished, and Hermione's head snapped up, blinking in surprise. Surely Malfoy wasn't sleeping in his new favorite class? And it couldn't be possible that Snape was actually going to discipline him! But then again, it seemed like that was exactly what was happening. Malfoy was sitting up slowly, attempting to stifle a yawn, dark circles under his eyes, looking every bit as tired and dejected as Hermione herself felt.

Snape leaned over Malfoy's desk and said in a dangerously soft tone, "Don't let it happen again, Mr. Malfoy, I'm sure your father wouldn't want to hear that you are shirking your duties." Malfoy looked much more frightened than Hermione would have expected him to be when he was only being threatened with a report of sleeping in class. She had the sneaking suspicion that the duties Snape referred to were not class related, but shrugged that notion off just as quickly as it had come. She'd been listening to Harry too much, Malfoy was just Malfoy, not an evil force infiltrating their school.

"As I was saying," Snape continued. "These practical tests will consist mainly of the standard defensive spells and jinxes, however there will also be a test in apparating for those of you who are old enough, and a broom proficiency test for all of you."

"Broom proficiency test?" Hermione's voice came out as little more than a whisper, but Snape rounded on her as if she had interrupted his class with a firework display worthy of the Weasley twins.

"Hard of hearing today are we Miss Granger? Perhaps like Mr. Malfoy, you don't see the value of paying attention the first time something is said."

Hermione blushed and glanced at Malfoy against her better judgment. He didn't glare at her like she expected, only rolled his eyes and looked away.

"In any event Miss Granger, yes you will be tested on your ability to fly, and more importantly fly evasively, on a broomstick. This will take place the day after your written and spell exams, and will be conducted by me along with other volunteer faculty."

Snape droned on, but Hermione was no longer listening. Broom proficiency? She was doomed. Hermione Granger could not fly.

It was true that Harry and Ron had gotten her a couple of feet off the ground years ago to play a bit of backyard quiddich, and even that had been terrifying to her. She'd never learned to properly control the broomstick, and after a rather nasty fall she'd vowed never to touch the brutish things again. But now she would have to! And what choice did she have other than asking Harry or Ron to teach her how to fly? Hermione chanced a glance at her friends who were listening to Snape a few desks over, Ron seated next to Lavender, Harry next to Neville. Neither of them was paying the least bit of attention to her, and Hermione didn't look forward to forcing her company on them.

Snape finally dismissed the class, and Hermione sighed as she gathered her things slowly, shoving them one by one into her bag. She was hoping half-heartedly that if she hesitated long enough one of her friends would appear at her side and offer the flying lessons she needed, but her hopes were disappointed when she saw Ron and Lavender strolling out of the classroom, entwined to the point of ridiculousness, followed closely by Harry who gave her a half-hearted wave before disappearing around the corner. Hermione blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over, and mentally berated herself for expecting anyone else to come and rescue her from her predicament. She was Hermione Granger, and she would think of a way to succeed, it was what she did best. It still hurt though. And Hermione was less than graceful as she whipped around to grab her last book, knocking it off the desk and sending it skidding across the floor.

"Clumsy as well as hard of hearing today, Miss Granger?" Snape's cold voice was enough to bring the tears back to Hermione's eyes despite her best intentions not to let them reappear. Couldn't she do anything right anymore?

Suddenly the book was being placed back on her desk, and the figure that had done so was walking past and out of the classroom without glancing back or saying a word. Hermione stared after in confusion for a moment, having thought that she was the last student left in the room, when suddenly the glimpse she got of short, blonde hair hit her like a ton of bricks. _Malfoy_ of all people had picked up her book? _Malfoy _had ignored Snape's remarks? _Malfoy_ had missed a prime opportunity to mock her for being a stupid, clumsy mudblood? Suddenly, a plan completely devoid of logic or good sense occurred to Hermione, and whether it was her severe exhaustion, the book incident, or the thought of how much it would annoy Ron and Harry, she sprinted out of the classroom after her least favorite Slytherin without stopping to consider how stupid that action truly was.

"Malfoy!" She shouted, racing out into the hallway, knowing that he couldn't have gotten far. Besides they were already in the dungeons, his dormitory had to be close. "Malfoy!" She called again, not seeing him in the immediate vicinity, and determined to ignore the stares of those around her who were probably convinced she wanted to hex him into the next century for something. Deciding quickly which general direction she believed he had probably headed, she jogged in that direction, rounding the corner at near top speed only to crash head first into a rather solid object. Landing soundly on her backside, Hermione looked up slowly, color rushing into her cheeks.

"You rang, Granger?" Malfoy towered over her from this position. He still looked tired and the circles under his eyes were even more striking from this distance, but the shadow of his familiar smirk was on his face as he stared down at her.

"Yes, well, I wanted to ask you," She was struggling to get up but she had become entangled in the strap of her bag, and with the immense weight added to it by her rather large collection of reading materials, she was having a hard time doing so. She was also trying to figure out if it was a good or bad sign that Malfoy had apparently heard her calling and waited for her. "I wanted to ask you…if…"

"If I have time to point out to you all the ways in which you are clumsy and a danger to yourself and those around you?" Even he seemed to know it was a weak excuse for an insult, a fact she would usually have pointed out to him, but today wasn't the day for trading insults. Neither of them was up to it, and she, impossible as it seemed, needed his help. "Well, I hate to disappoint, Granger, but I don't."

Hermione finally managed to detangle herself from her bag, and stood up unsteadily. "Right, well, Malfoy I wanted to ask you if you would teach me to fly." She surprised herself by just coming out and saying it, and apparently he was even more stunned than she was. Both the superior smirk and the exhausted disinterest slid off his face, as he attempted to process what she had just said.

"You want me to what, Granger?" His expression was one of an animal caught in a trap, as though he was expecting her to yell 'Got ya!' throw a curse and run off laughing.

Hermione was far from convinced that this had been a good idea, and she couldn't remember ever being more embarrassed, but it was too late to take it back now.

"I was wondering if you might be able to teach me to fly." She repeated softly, ready to make a quick exit if things went badly. "You know broom proficiency exams? I don't know how to fly."

"But," He sputtered, his surprise and confusion completely suppressing any urge to insult or walk away from the muggleborn in front of him. "Potter, the Weasel, surely one of them can teach you…"

"They're rather…busy, these days." Hermione shrugged, not wanting to confide in Malfoy.

"But why ask _me_!?" He exclaimed, not bothering to keep his voice down, after all the corridor was conveniently deserted except for the two supposed enemies.

"Because we can help each other," She reasoned, her plan forming more concretely in her mind even as she spoke. "I'll help you study for the written portion of the exam, and maybe proofread a bit of your homework as well so you'll have the time to help me with the broom portion. That way we'll both pass."

"Who says I need your help?" He spat, growing bolder as his shock wore off somewhat. "I can study on my own, and I certainly don't need anyone 'proofreading' my homework!"

"You've been practically falling asleep in the classes you bother to show up for," Hermione argued, no longer intimidated now that she was dealing with the Malfoy she was accustomed to. "And if you asked Ron or Harry you'd know that when I say 'proofread' a bit of your homework, I mean do it for you."

He looked a little too interested in that idea, so she amended quickly, "Not all of it, just enough to take the pressure off, you still need to know the material and I've got to sleep sometime."

He considered for a moment, eying her carefully. "Yes, I'd say you could do with some sleep, Granger." She blushed and waited for him to continue. "Fine. I'll teach you to fly. Meet me tomorrow at 5:00 on the grounds, beyond that oaf's shack, before you come to the Forbidden Forest. I don't want an audience." He spun on his heels, and started to walk away, before turning once more and giving her a searching look. "If this is some kind of trick…" His eyes hardened and she shuddered. "You'll regret it."

The next day Hermione sat in the spot described by Malfoy convinced that he wasn't coming. It was fifteen after and so far there hadn't been any sign of him. Hermione stood slowly, brushing herself off, and feeling utterly stupid for having thought that Malfoy would ever do anything to help her.

"Let's get this over with." She whirled around at the sound, and against all odds, there he was. He held two broomsticks in his hands, the one in his left obviously his own, the shiny black wood gleamed and she recognized it from seeing him play Quidditch. In his right hand he held what was obviously an older and much more worn in broom, its varnish worn away in places, but Hermione thought it looked slightly less intimidating out of the two.

"I thought you weren't coming." She admitted awkwardly, not sure why this had seemed like such a good idea.

"I said I would." He snapped, his annoyance obvious. "Here." He tossed her the worn in broom, and she caught it but just barely. He rolled his eyes, and then swung a leg over his own broom. "I assume you do know how to get on it at least, Granger?"

Blushing furiously, Hermione chose not to comment as she copied his movement.

"Alright, well as for the basics, there's not much to know really." Malfoy stated. "You're right handed? Ok, then put your right foot a step behind your left, and push off while leaning forward slightly…" He followed his own instructions, and now hovering a few feet off of the ground, turned fully expecting to see her doing the same. Instead he was greeted with the sight of Hermione, blushing even more so than before, still rooted firmly to the ground.

"What's the hold up, Granger?" He asked in frustration.

"I'm just…" She started nervously.

"Scared!?" He finished for her incredulously. "You're still on the ground, Granger!"

"Obviously, Malfoy!" She snapped. This had been a terrible idea. Taking a deep breath, she slowly slid her right foot back and keeping her eyes tightly shut, she pushed off. She felt the broom begin to rise and simultaneously surge forward, throwing off her balance and sending her backwards off the broom and back to the ground rather painfully.

"Granger!" She heard Malfoy shouting but chose to keep her eyes closed. This was too humiliating to be endured even in the name of passing a test. "Granger!" Malfoy's insistent voice was directly over her now, and she felt him poking her shoulder. She opened one eye, squinting up at the blonde boy directly over her.

"You were supposed to lean forward." He admonished, shaking his head. "I told you to lean forward." When her only answer was a groan, he continued in a tone of genuine surprise. "You're absolute rubbish." 

"And you thought I asked you to teach me just because I enjoy your company?" She snapped, sitting up and scooting another inch or two away from him.

He ignored this just shaking his head again. "This time lean forward!" He remounted his own broom, and Hermione saw little choice but to do the same. She slid back her right foot, kicked off, leaned forward…

"That's it Granger! Now put a little pressure on the front of the broom and sit up slowly…"

But Hermione was so excited to have achieved her goal of leaving the ground more or less steadily that she had already loosened her grip on the broomstick and sat up quickly, causing the broom to jerk sharply upward. With a loud smacking sound the broom came in contact with her face and Hermione slid off the broom and toward the ground, this time from somewhat higher than her previous fall.

Hermione lay still in agony, fairly sure that nothing was broken, but feeling bruised all over, not least of all her ego.

"Granger!" Malfoy was back. "Granger, what was that!?"

Hermione opened her eyes, and moaned softly, trying not to move. "Don't worry I'm fine."

He snorted as if that was the furthest thought from his mind. "Come on Granger."

"No more." She knew she sounded like a spoiled toddler, but she was in pain, and possibly concussed, and she couldn't take much more of this humiliation.

"Up you go, Granger." To her surprise Malfoy actually gripped both of her hands firmly and pulled her to her feet. She stumbled for a moment, and he steadied her shoulder before taking a step back. "Tomorrow night we study. Library. 7:00." Then picking up both brooms, Malfoy headed toward the castle without glancing back.


	3. Chapter 3

The next night Draco was the one waiting in the library wondering if she was going to show up. It wasn't a position he took to well, and he fiddled nervously with the parchment in front of him where he should have been starting his essay on the best defensive spells in case of attack by giants. He really had no idea what he'd been thinking when he'd agreed to this arrangement. He could blame most of it on the fact that he'd been exhausted to the point of stupidity, when Granger had accosted him in the hallway. Was he really her best option to learn to fly? What was going on with her and those pathetic friends of hers anyway? Merlin, she was awful! He'd never seen a worse flyer, and that was counting himself at the age of three. He'd never be able to teach _that_ girl to fly. Not a chance. And what was really in it for him anyway?

It was true he was falling drastically far behind in his schoolwork, but that was of little consequence. His entire focus had been on one task, and that was as it should be. What did marks really matter at this point? All that mattered was keeping up appearances, doing just well enough not to arouse suspicion, and that he could do well enough on his own. So what _was_ he doing here? He had just decided he would leave when she appeared before him, the slight discoloration around her nose proof that she had avoided the hospital wing the night before. She sat down across from him dropping her bag on the table with a loud thump, and looking up at him as if daring him to challenge her for being late.

"I thought you weren't coming." He smirked at her, repeating her words from yesterday.

"I said I would." She played along, a small smile appearing and then disappearing just as quickly on her face. "Is that your essay?" She pulled the parchment towards her and frowned when she saw there were only a few hastily scribbled sentences on it.

"I thought the point of this arrangement was that you were going to help me." He didn't know why he felt defensive. So what if she seemed disappointed in his efforts?

"Of course," She blushed, and he had no idea why. "I'll work on your introduction…why don't you look up some of the dates, I can't recall when the last recorded giant attack actually was…" She trailed off and he shrugged, pulling his book towards him and flipping through its pages while she began scribbling in earnest.

"The last recorded attack was 1973." He said after awhile, breaking the silence and forcing her to look up at him.

"Yes, I thought it was something like that." She nodded, and started to go back to his essay, when for reasons unknown even to himself, Draco felt compelled to continue speaking.

"You're the worst flyer I've ever seen, Granger." He didn't say it with any of his usual malice, it was merely an observation. It was a perplexing observation at that, given her usual annoying status as the queen of perfection.

"Yes, well." She looked up, seeming to be unsure of what to say. "That's why I need lessons."

Draco's first instinct was to drop the subject, maybe abandon the entire arrangement while he was at it. Instead he asked, "Why aren't your friends teaching you? They can't be that busy, Granger, don't give me that."

Hermione blushed, and clutched the quill in her hand as if it was a life preserver.

"Let me guess," Draco watched her face carefully as he spoke. "The Weasel finally managed to find himself a girl blind and stupid enough to come within ten feet of him, and Potter is caught up in another fit of self-righteous martyrdom, and so they've abandoned you for those pursuits."

Hermione's eyes were oddly shiny, but her mouth twitched dangerously close to a smile, and for some reason Draco felt somewhat satisfied with that part of her response.

"Something like that." She looked quickly back down at his parchment, but less then a minute later she was meeting his eyes again. "How'd you know?"

Draco shrugged, and this time it was him who dropped his gaze to the book in front of him. "They're pricks."

Hermione laughed, and he looked up surprised. She was laughing, really laughing, and she didn't show any signs of stopping.

"Granger?" He waved a hand in front of her face in attempt to get her attention. "Granger! What's so funny?"

She took a deep breath, and managed to answer him between fits of laughter. "You've spent every day of the past six years making my life a living hell, and now you're accusing my friends of being pricks for their treatment of me?" She was still laughing, and he had to admit he could appreciate the irony of the situation.

"The two aren't mutually exclusive, Granger," He informed her.

"No, I suppose not." She had regained some control, but now she was _smiling_ at him.

"I'll take it from here." He said abruptly, snatching back his parchment and gathering his belongings.

"Oh," He thought she sounded suspiciously disappointed, but he ignored that. "Yes, well, you've got a good start there."

He nodded. "Flying practice tomorrow, Granger. Same place, same time."

"Oh!" She seemed genuinely shocked. "I thought after out last…lesson…you wouldn't want…I thought this would be the end of it." She gestured to the remnants of their study session.

"We made a deal, Granger." He rolled his eyes. Didn't she ever just accept things for what they were? "Which means we're stuck with each other until you can keep your arse on a broomstick."

The next day he and Granger arrived for her lesson at almost the exact same time, and he tossed her his old broomstick, noting that she caught it slightly more confidently this time.

"Ok, Granger, today's goals are get you in the air and keep you there for more than ten seconds." She blushed but didn't argue. What could she really say? As demeaning as he knew his statement had sounded, he also knew it would be a miracle if she could achieve it.

They each mounted their brooms, but this time Draco kept both feet rooted firmly to the ground. "You first, Granger."

He watched as she took a deep and shuddering breath, before kicking off hesitantly.

"Lean forward!" He bellowed, and watched as she did as instructed. "Keep a firm grip on the broom! Push down slightly! Sit up slowly!" He fired off directions rapidly, and she did as he said, managing to make it to a shaky, but upright position.

"That's it, Granger!" He felt like cheering, but limited himself to a self-assured smirk. He could teach anyone to fly, even this…

Before he could finish the thought, a sharp cry broke into his self-congratulatory thoughts. His gaze snapped upward, and the sight was not a pleasant one. Apparently, her broom had been steadily rising the entire time, indicating a loose grip on the broom, but the point was she was now at least thirty feet in the air. He felt as though a weight had settled in his stomach. A fall from that height could easily prove fatal.

"Malfoy!" She shrieked, lying almost flat on the broom, and probably holding on for dear life, which was probably why the broom had stopped rising. "Malfoy, help me!"

At last he snapped out of his own thoughts, and kicked off, rising as quickly as he could until he was more or less level with her.

"Granger," He addressed her firmly, knowing if he didn't she would probably become hysterical and get herself killed. "Push on the front of the broom and angle towards the ground…"

"I can't!" True to her word she hadn't moved a muscle. "Malfoy, I can't, I'll fall!" 

"You have to!" He argued, knowing that she wasn't likely to see reason at the moment. "Just grip the front of the broom…"

Something about his tone startled her into attempting to do as he said, and sure enough her broom dropped a few inches, but it twisted dangerously as it did so. Hermione gave what would have been a scream had she not been scared into silence, and Draco reached out, ready to grab her arm if need be.

"Ok, Granger, plan B, just grab my hand for balance ok?" She eyed him suspiciously, as if even the threat of death was not enough to make her fully trust him. He cursed again. "Granger! I won't let you fall! Just grab my hand, and then _push on the front of the broom_!"

She took a shuddering breath and then reached out slowly, her hand finding his and gripping it tightly. A few seconds later, he felt her broom drop another few inches, and brought his with it, so that they were hovering level again.

"Good job, Granger, keep going." He squeezed her hand without really considering what he was doing, and they continued to drop a few feet at a time until they reached the ground and spilled off of their brooms unceremoniously.

For a few moments it was silent, and Draco concentrated on nothing beyond slowing his own breathing. A sob broke the silence, and he realized that she was crying. He felt a tug on his hand, and glanced at in confusion. He was still holding her hand without realizing it, and now she was attempting to pull away from him while battling great, involuntary sobs that were wrecking her body.

Draco sat up slowly and before releasing her hand, he used it to pull her into a sitting position beside him. "Granger," He was extremely uncomfortable, and he knew he was shaking, probably from left over adrenaline. "Granger, it's over. You're fine."

Suddenly she was on her feet, taking deep shuddering breaths, and backing away from him as though he were some kind of monstrous beast not the boy who had just saved her life.

"I…am…never…flying…again." And with that, she turned and ran towards the castle, leaving Draco to scowl after her, not sure why he cared at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I rewrote this chapter three times trying to work in everything I wanted and still have it make sense, and I'm still not sure I got it right. I like it, but I'd appreciate any constructive reviews on why it works or doesn't…you'd think it would make it easier knowing where a story was going to end up, but I'm still figuring out the middle…thanks for reading: )

A small part of Hermione knew that she was overreacting. Really she was fine wasn't she? Things could have been much, much worse. Things _would _have been much worse if Malfoy hadn't been there. Maybe that was part of what had scared her so much. She'd had all control of the situation ripped from her and placed in the hands of…Malfoy!? It was too much for her fragile brain, run ragged with fear, frustration, and exhaustion, to comprehend without a total breakdown. Which in fact seemed to be her condition as she raced away from her disastrous "lesson". She was still in a similar state when she burst into the Gryffindor common room, too distraught to even notice the stares of her housemates as she fled up the stairs to her dormitory and the sanctuary of her bed.

It was all just going so horribly wrong. Hermione Granger thrived on logic, order, accomplishment, and friendship. Currently her life was more or less devoid of all of those things and the knowledge of this seemed to Hermione to be a physical weight pressing in on her from all sides. Perhaps even more painful was the realization that she was failing miserably at her attempts to fly, and it wasn't even Malfoy's fault, it was hers. She just couldn't do it, and she had no idea how to deal with such a complete and utter catastrophe. Not to mention she had been so unbelievably _scared_. Maybe her mind was exaggerating a relatively tame event, but it didn't feel that way. For a few horrible minutes, Hermione had been convinced her life was about to end, and the complete and horrifying irony of Malfoy being the one to witness what could have been her last few moments on Earth was just as frightening as the situation itself.

She was still crying off and on almost an hour later when the tentative voice of Lavender Brown broke her solitude from just outside Hermione's closed drapes.

"Hermione?" Lavender sounded as though she was fully expecting to have her head bitten off, and Hermione seriously considered confirming her suspicions. "Ron and Harry wanted me to check on you."

After a moment of silence, Lavender continued as though Hermione perhaps hadn't understood her.

"They wanted me to make sure you're all right."

Hermione still didn't respond, wishing with all her might that the girl on the other side of the curtains surrounding her bed would simply disappear. It was nice that Harry and Ron were concerned about her, but sending up Lavender? Surely they weren't dense enough to think that was a good idea.

"Well, are you ok? Hermione?" Hermione deemed lavender's persistent voice whiny, but she was smart enough to know that her judgment was seriously prejudiced against the girl at this point.

"Fine." Hermione finally answered, summoning every bit of strength and stubborn determination available to her to keep her voice steady. "I'm fine, tell them I'm fine."

"Alright then." Lavender seemed just as relieved as Hermione to bring the conversation to an end. "We'll be in the common room if you want to talk." And with that Hermione heard her hastily retreating, and felt an odd mixture of relief and regret. Relief that Lavender was leaving and regret that she didn't truly have anyone to talk to, or anything to say that they would understand anyway. Lavender had asked if she was ok, but what no one had asked her was what exactly was wrong. It was just as well. Hermione wasn't at all sure of the answer to that question.

The next day Hermione emerged determined to recover both her dignity and sanity. It had been utterly stupid to think that just because he'd picked up her book without comment that Malfoy was an acceptable person to ask for help. He hadn't taken advantage of the situation yet, but it was only a matter of time before he did. In fact, he had probably spent the entire night telling everyone he could think of all about how the pathetic Mudblood had pleaded and begged for him to save her. Of course, if he did that he would have to explain why he _had_ helped her, and that really wouldn't serve his reputation with his crowd. So maybe he would keep the whole thing to himself after all. In any case, Hermione was done with the whole ridiculous enterprise. Nothing was worth the stress and humiliation of working with Malfoy, not even passing a big test.

Hermione held her head high when she entered the great hall for breakfast, refusing to so much as glance towards the Slytherin table. If they were talking about her then she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of reacting to it. Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table to the left of Ginny, working hard to give Ron and Lavender no more attention than she had given the Slytherins, even though she could feel their eyes on her.

"Hermione?" It was Harry, sitting down carefully on her other side as if bumping into her accidentally might set off another display of emotion like the one he had so briefly witnessed the night before.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione replied cheerfully, concentrating on filling her plate as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"How are you?" He ventured, copying her actions and filling a plate for himself, obviously attempting to keep his tone casual.

"Just fine, Harry," Hermione gave her friend a small smile. "Really. Last night I was just feeling the pressure from a couple of classes that's all, nothing to worry about."

"We _were_ worried about you." Ron offered, receiving a glare from Lavender for his effort, which Hermione had to admit bolstered her spirits a bit.

"Yes, well, like I said, nothing to worry about." Hermione never even considered the possibility of explaining to her friend's the real events of the past couple of days. It seemed that her friends were making a real effort to pull themselves away from their own…pursuits…to show their concern for her, and that made all the difference in the world to Hermione's emotional state. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin all of that by dragging up a mistake that was over and done with anyway.

Hermione made it through her first two classes without incident, taking notes and answering questions with gusto. She was in top form when she entered the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom determined to continue her return to excellence without sparing a thought for the blonde boy two rows over. Of course, this plan was almost immediately foiled, because she could feel his eyes boring into her from the second she entered the room.

"Don't look at him, don't blush, don't think about it, don't care, just focus." She muttered to herself, as Snape stood to address the class. She found that she had to silently repeat this mantra several times as the class wore on because she swore he kept glancing over at her. Of course, curiosity kept forcing her to glance over and see if _he_ was glancing over…he was so annoying! Finally, she caught him at it and gave him her best glare, her best "you'd better cut that out ferret", and after that he stopped.

When the class ended, Hermione gathered her things as quickly as possible not wanting to repeat past episodes of clumsiness and the lunacy that followed, and hurried to leave with Harry and Ron. She was grateful for their presence as well as Neville, and even Lavender. She buried herself in the small crowd her companions formed, and made her way out of the dungeons without looking back.

That night Hermione avoided the library at all costs. She took the precautions against running into Malfoy to an extreme level, skipping dinner, and holing up in the Gryffindor common room to catch up on her homework. It wasn't that she believed he wanted to continue with their arrangement, it was just that after his staring in Snape's class she was convinced he was biding his time until he could do something horrible to her in true Malfoy fashion. A punishment of sorts for forcing him to not only save her life, but hold her hand in the process…although…hadn't he sort of done that on his own? Hermione shook her head, and jabbed her quill at her parchment so sharply that she pierced it completely.

"Arrggh." She groaned, tossing the parchment aside, and shifting anxiously under the piles of books that had collapsed around her. It was almost 7:00. Maybe if she just went to the library, confirmed that he wasn't there, then she could focus. She couldn't stand to sit around and wonder when the confrontation would occur, she'd rather have some control over the situation. He probably wouldn't be there anyway. "I'm going to the library." She announced suddenly to her friends.

"Shocking." Ron joked from his spot near the fireplace, Lavender doing everything in her power to keep Ron from concentrating on his own homework. "Can you help me with this when you get back?"

"Maybe…I just…I'll be back." Hermione finished lamely, not in the mood to explain herself to anyone.

"I'll go with you." Harry rose from his spot opposite Ron, and made to follow Hermione out of the portrait hole she had just opened.

"It's alright, Harry, I'd rather go alone, just to clear my head. I won't be long anyway." Hermione assured him, determined to go alone for some much needed peace of mind, but grateful for his offer. She had missed her friends terribly when they'd been distant, but now that they were making an effort to remedy the situation she found herself remaining somewhat dejected. Was it just the fact that she would inevitably fail her broom exam? Or the very real possibility that Malfoy could expose her failure at anytime? No, it was something else, something unknown to her, and if there was one thing Hermione Granger hated, it was not having the answer to something she wanted to know.

"Hermione…I don't know if you should." Harry leaned closer to Hermione before whispering, "I've been watching the map, Malfoy just left the Room of Requirement…"

"Don't start, Harry," Hermione shook her head, refusing to argue with Harry so soon after they'd made up. And she certainly wasn't going to discuss Malfoy of all people… "I can handle Malfoy if the situation calls for it, I'll be back soon."

As soon as the portrait hole swung shut behind her, Hermione had serious doubts about her decision, but she wasn't about to turn around and face Harry so soon. She made her way to the library slowly, almost turning back three times, before she finally entered the place she usually felt so at home.

"You're late." Hermione froze. Despite her reservations about coming to the library, she'd still been convinced deep down that he wouldn't show. It was important to remain calm and in control.

"You just got here." She snapped, glancing around and noting that they were the only ones there besides Madam Pince who seemed to be absorbed in a book at her desk.

"How do you know?" His eyes narrowed, and Hermione was glad she hadn't sat down yet. "You haven't been following me have you, Granger?"

"No," She shook her head nervously. "Harry…saw you." The color drained from Hermione's face as she realized how close she had come to letting something slip about the map.

"Getting on with the Pothead again are we, Granger? Lovely." Malfoy replied carefully, smirking of course, but a dangerous glint in his eyes revealing that he was also not happy to hear that he had been seen. "I have to say though, I wasn't aware you were letting people fight your battles for you, that's disappointing even for a mu…"

"Watch you mouth, Malfoy!" Hermione took a deep breath, and then making a decision not to let him get to her, or at least not know that he was, she sat down across from him. "And don't flatter yourself, Harry doesn't know anything about our former arrangement. I don't have to hide behind my friends. If you're planning to humiliate me, I can handle it myself."

"What are you going on about, Granger?" Malfoy seemed genuinely confused, but she refused to let her guard down. "We're supposed to be studying."

"You thought we were still going to study?" She eyed him carefully searching for signs of trickery, but seeing only annoyance. "I told you, I'm not flying anymore, our deal's off Malfoy."

"What makes you think you get to decide that, Granger?" He leaned back in his chair, arms folded arrogantly over his chest. "Anyway, you're here aren't you?"

"Why do you care?" She exclaimed, confused and more than a little freaked out by the fact that he had indeed been waiting for her. "You can just force someone else do your work for you, and then you won't have to put up with me."

"You know, Granger, you really aren't as smart as everyone says." Malfoy's tone had faded from anger to boredom.

"If you're referring to that essay on giants, you're the one who left before I could finish." Hermione started, but Malfoy dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand.

"Honestly, Granger, prove my point why don't you? I meant your ridiculous declaration about never flying again. You've spent the last six years diving headfirst into stupid situations and throwing yourself in the path of trolls and…"

"Deatheaters…" Hermione supplied coldly.

"Exactly," He continued, seemingly unaffected by her remark. "And after all of that thick behavior you're going to let a glorified twig defeat you? You're going to fail an exam? You're going to give _Snape_ the satisfaction? Stupid Granger, even for you."

"Shove off, Malfoy." Hermione stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back and forcing herself not to run back to the common room. A dignified walk would serve her much better, but that was a bit much to expect of herself given the situation. A sort of restrained jog was the best she could manage under the circumstances.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco watched her run away with a sort of incredulous disdain. He slammed shut the book he had been pretending to read when Granger had come bursting in, and then deciding that he wasn't satisfied with that, he also knocked the book off of the table and sent it skidding across the library floor. This earned him a glare from Madame Pince, who stood, ready to chase him from her sanctuary if necessary.

"I'm going," He rolled his eyes, as Madame Pince continued to glare at him. He left muttering about the quality of the help at Hogwarts. He wouldn't dream of considering her a member of the staff, she hardly ever left the library let alone attempted to teach a class. She just stayed in there and tried to protect her books like they were her only friends, which come to think of it they probably were. Right now, she was probably cradling the one he'd so offensively mistreated, as though it were a war casualty. When he thought about that ridiculous excuse for a librarian it made him so mad he could…

Ok, so maybe he was displacing some of his anger. In fact, he couldn't believe he'd never seen the similarities between Pince and Granger. They were both bitter hags who clung to their books like only inanimate objects could stand their company…yes, that comparison was good for a laugh.

Draco ambled slowly towards the dungeons, in no rush to be in the company of his fellow Slytherins. They would all be expecting him to participate in their little banter, or grunts of confusion in the case of Crabbe and Goyle. Or worse, Blaise and Pansy would expect him to drop veiled hints about his importance to certain plots. It was his own fault to a certain extent, and that was not something he admitted easily, even to himself. It had all seemed so different at the beginning of the year. After the…unpleasant…events of the summer, his mother had cried, and he'd received a letter from his father saying he would be proud if Draco took care of the family responsibilities, and somehow Draco had managed to convince himself that what he'd thought was terrifying was actually the solution to all of his problems. He could protect his mother, redeem his father, and save himself from the almost certain death that came from being the son of an out of favor deatheater. So he'd done what he did best, compensated for any issue he might have with a public show of confidence and defiance. He'd been stupid to do so in front of his friends on the train, even if he hadn't actually admitted anything specific. But what choice did he have? He had to keep up appearances didn't he? It was bravery when you really thought about it. How many sixteen year olds could even attempt something so dangerous without completely losing it?

Although he had to admit, he might very well be losing it. He hadn't been sleeping well for weeks. All of his half-hearted planning had come to nothing. No, that was the kind of thinking that got a person killed. His planning wasn't half-hearted, he was just lacking in the proper inspiration, it would come to him, it always did.

And of course the greatest evidence that he was losing it, was the fact that Draco had allowed himself to be sucked into this whole Granger situation. He could think of a few thousand things he'd rather spend his time doing, such as removing his eyeballs with a fork, or letting a centaur trample him, or…well, the point was that the very fact that he had accepted Granger's stupid proposal confirmed just how desperate he was for a distraction, _any_ distraction.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he needed _something _to focus on besides his mission, and if the only thing that presented itself was broom lessons and study sessions with Granger, then he would find a way to make it interesting, for him at least. If he could torture Granger while simultaneously putting her in his debt to be collected on for further torture in the future, all the better for him. Unless Granger continued to be an idiot and refuse the honor of being graced with his time, because desperate for a distraction or not, Draco Malfoy would never chase a mudblood.

For a few days Draco saw Granger only in Defense Against the Dark Arts and in passing during meals. He ignored her completely, which frankly he thought she should have been grateful for. Her pitiful little tantrum would have been prime material for him had he been at his peak, but he was too preoccupied with his task to waste his time on the momentary pleasures of emotionally destroying mudbloods. He was spending more and more time in the Room of Requirement, quite a handy little place. He could imagine a lot of creative and stimulating ways he could have made use of that room in his first five years at Hogwarts had he been aware of its existence. Well, perhaps not fifth year as it turns out Potter and his pathetic posse had been making pretty constant use of it at that point. He always felt somewhat sick when he thought of Potter's exploits fifth year. It had led to the disaster at the ministry, the imprisonment of his father, and the throbbing reminder on his forearm…and yet, if he hadn't heard of their use of the Room of Requirement he wouldn't have even the glimmer of a chance to fix the whole catastrophe.

The problem with picking a side was it was nearly impossible to know which side would come out on top. Draco didn't have the benefit of loyalty to a cause like his father, or being born a hero like Potter. True, the world seemed unable to make up their mind about Potter…one day he was the chosen one who would save them all and the next they saw him for the arrogant git he was. But the thing about Potter that Draco truly envied, wasn't so much the fame, but the fact that right or wrong, weak or invincible, supported or alone, Potter never had to truly doubt the course his life would take. Draco did not have that luxury. Draco didn't have much of anything at the moment.

Which is why four days after their last encounter Draco found himself approaching Granger in the library where she was deeply engrossed in a book. He had been perusing the magical maintenance section for at least the fifteenth time that year, when he saw her in the furthest, most isolated corner of the library. She was sitting in the most out of the way chair possible, her legs pulled up on the chair, her knees hiding the cover of the book she was so absorbed in. Two or three first years wandered by her, giggling at something, and Granger snapped to attention as if they had caught her in the middle of the most despicable crime imaginable.

Draco was intrigued despite himself. Granger did a quick scan of her surrounding area, and before he knew it was happening her nervous eyes had locked on his. He was somewhat gratified when she almost fell out of her chair, and he was extremely gratified when she did in fact drop her book. She made a leap for it, but she was clumsy and he knew he could get to it first. He was the second youngest seeker in a century after all. He snatched the book from the ground, just as her fingers grasped at the spot on the floor where it had just been. She sat up so quickly that she collided with his chest, and Draco saw that characteristic blush rise to her cheeks.

"Honestly, Granger, get a grip." He spat, genuinely annoyed and yet amused at the same time. Did this girl ever have any contact with anyone ever? He glanced down at the back cover of the book he was holding, and allowed his familiar smirk to appear on his face. "We've got to stop meeting like this, Granger, me picking up your books after you prove yourself to be a clumsy fool…"

"Give me my book back, Malfoy!" She was still blushing but she also looked like she was about to curse him and that only increased his curiosity.

"Now, now, Granger, play nice." He glanced down, turning over the book in his hand to reveal the title. Oh, this was too much! "Brooms for Beginners!" He was shaking with laughter, and she didn't seem to be taking that well.

"Brooms for Beginners!" He repeated, reading the subtitle aloud with delight. "Tips and tricks for the terrible flyer! Well, that's certainly you, Granger, but honestly!" He held the book up as if she didn't already know what it looked like, and gestured to the animated illustration of a rather dazed looking wizard performing a lopsided corkscrew repeatedly on a roughly drawn broom.

Her glare emitted a perfectly balanced mixture of humiliation and fury, and he hated to admit how much entertainment value this little incident was offering him.

"You have no right," Her voice was dangerously quiet and she seemed to be barely retaining control. "You have no right at all to mock me for what I choose to read. I know it's a skill you probably never acquired…"

"Do you really think this is going to teach you to fly better than I could have?" He asked, taking a different approach. He kept his tone mocking, he was still making fun of the girl, but he was also curious as to her thought process. "I thought you had given up on flying!"

"I did! I mean I have…I mean…" She trailed off, only to start again even angrier than before. "I just thought maybe a bit of theory might help."

"Theory? Honestly, Granger, every time I think you can't get any more pathetic." He distractedly held the book out of her reach as she made another attempt to take it back. "No, book is going to teach you to fly."

"What do you care, Malfoy!?" She exclaimed, her frustration finally overwhelming all other emotions she was battling with. "To you this is just one more thing you can use to abuse and humiliate me, and I've got news for you, you've got better material! Call me an ugly, bushy-haired freak! Call me a know-it-all, teacher's pet that nobody can stand! Hell, fall back on the old standby and call me a filthy mudblood! But it really isn't in your best interest to keep bringing up the fact that we had a small lapse in judgment that resulted in a few hours together where we weren't trying to kill each other. That's right _we_! Because like it or not, Malfoy, you said yes when I asked you! You showed up at the library even after I said I wouldn't fly anymore! And you, Malfoy, _you_ saved my life, so just get over yourself and _leave me alone_!"

He was so shocked at her speech that he didn't react at all.

"Ugh!" She shouted in frustration, grabbing the book from his now loose grip and then before he knew what was happening, she was reaching forward and shoving him hard right in the chest.

Draco lost his balance and tumbled backwards into the shelf behind him as Granger stomped around the corner and presumably out of the library.

"Granger!" Draco bellowed, his voice returning along with his senses as he finally realized what had happened. "Granger, get back here!"

Unfortunately it wasn't Granger who appeared around the corner, but Madam Pince, who took one look at Draco sprawled across the floor buried knee-deep in books that had tumbled off the shelf behind him, and dragged him up and out of the library by the elbow.

"Merlin, I hate that woman!" He shouted, kicking the wall of the corridor in frustration, sending a group of girls scurrying for a nearby classroom. He stomped off towards the Room of Requirement, not pausing to consider which book loving hag he was referring to.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione was beginning to notice a disturbing pattern in her behavior, especially towards annoying males. She had a tendency to become violent, and she really wasn't too bothered by it either. There was the time she had slapped Malfoy in their third year, and then recently she'd sent those conjured birds after Ron…and now shoving Malfoy, in the library of all places. The boy had it coming, there was no question about it. After everything he'd done to her over the years, Hermione knew she would be justified in giving him a thorough beating, tying him down, and leaving him in the forbidden forest for whatever nasty creature happened to come along. What was bothering her, and leaving her feeling just a tad guilty, was that in this particular instance, he really hadn't done anything _that _horrible to her. He'd caught her reading that humiliating book, he'd pointed out what she already had a sneaking suspicion of, that books weren't going to save her from this particular dilemma, and then he'd…well, that was about it really.

"Don't you dare feel sorry for him!" Hermione commanded herself sternly as she stalked off toward Gryffindor Tower. "Don't you dare!"

But despite her best intentions not to, she did feel a little bit sorry for Malfoy. Something was wrong with him this year, that much was obvious. He looked like he was dangerously exhausted every moment, the circles under his eyes were becoming rather like something she'd once seen in a bad zombie movie, and he didn't even seem to be able to muster the energy to take advantage of Snape's new position. And thanks to Harry, she was certainly aware that he'd been spending a large chunk of his time in the Room of Requirement. Maybe, as Harry thought, this meant that he was up to something horrible and Hermione was being blind not to see it. But if she was honest, all she saw when she looked at Malfoy was a distorted version of how she saw herself these days. Tired, confused, a bit scared maybe. They were both being drawn into things beyond their power to change, and neither of them had much practice accepting a lack of control like that.

"But he's still Malfoy!" She exclaimed silently, berating herself mentally for allowing herself to forget their rocky history. "So what if he's freaked out? He should be! It's because of people with stupid attitudes like him that the world is about to go to hell…" Hermione shook her head, to bring herself back to reality. She had reached the portrait hole, but the password wasn't immediately coming to mind. She was losing it, she really was.

"Hermione!" She whirled at the sound of her name, for a crazed moment half-believing that Malfoy had followed her to exact his revenge. She was immensely relieved when instead she saw Harry and Ron hurrying towards her.

"Harry, Ron," She sighed with relief, but the serious look on their faces quickly brought her level of apprehension back up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Harry assured her a little too quickly, glancing sideways at Ron in a telling gesture. So he was looking for back up before he told her the truth? She was so tired of being treated lie a bomb that was about to go off. "Everything's fine," Harry continued, "It's just that we were looking for you."

"Oh?" Hermione kept her tone extremely pleasant. She wasn't about to make this any easier on her friends if they planned to be evasive with her. What happened to the days when the three of them didn't even have to say anything to understand each other? These days not only did they have to state the obvious, but they did it in a horribly awkward fashion.

"Yeah, we've barely seen you lately," Ron offered, crossing his arms, and shaking his stupid, shaggy hair out of his eyes. Hermione ignored the fact that she'd thought that his "stupid" hair was cute not so long ago.

"That's sweet Ronald, I've missed you guys too," She could see Harry fidgeting out of the corner of her eyes, and she felt sorry that he was once again ending up in the middle, but she couldn't stop herself. "But as I remember, little Won Won has been a _little_ busy himself lately."

Ron blushed until his face matched his hair, and Harry looked as if he were wishing he were anywhere but in the presence of his two best friends. Hermione shifted her weight between her feet, realizing with some regret that although she'd scored a small point against Ron, she wasn't any closer to knowing what was really going on.

"Well, that's just…" Ron muttered, his voice rising in pitch like it always did when he was nervous, or upset, and Hermione tried not to acknowledge that she had always found that endearing as well.

"So, are we going in?" Hermione interrupted, gesturing towards the portrait hole behind her. She was hoping one of them would offer up the password, because she still had a small, nagging fear that Malfoy was going to round the corner and confront her about their episode in the library. She wasn't afraid of him, she thought he was not the type to start a physical confrontation, and she was more than confident in her wand skills. Not to mention she had Harry and Ron to back her up if the situation called for it. No, what she was really concerned about was the possibility that Malfoy could expose the whole humiliating debacle to her friends, and she knew that would certainly not help ease the tension between them.

"Oh, yeah," Harry shrugged, seemingly embarrassed enough by his friends display to let whatever he had to say wait a few moments. "Grapefruit," He said in the general direction of the fat lady, and the portrait hole swung open.

Hermione wasted no time climbing in, and she assumed Harry and Ron were following. Her assumption was confirmed when Ron found his voice barely a second later.

"What were you doing with Malfoy in the library?" His tone was accusatory, and Hermione spun around in utter shock. Ron looked satisfied that he had gotten some sort of a rise out of her after her "Won Won" comment, but Harry was glancing back and forth between his friends, a mixture of discomfort and curiosity on his face.

"What!?" Hermione shouted. She couldn't help herself. She had not been expecting that.

"That's right," Ron grew more confident as he saw her react. "Harry and I were just having a look at his map…"

"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes to conceal her growing nervousness.

"Well, imagine our surprise when we see you in the library, with Malfoy." Ron shook his hair out of his eyes again, and all thoughts of its former "cuteness" had thoroughly vanished from Hermione's mind. In fact, for a fleeting moment she considered conjuring some scissors to take care of his newest annoying habit.

"It's not exactly shocking that I'd be in the library is it?" Hermione pointed out. "So what if Malfoy was there at the same time, I'm not responsible for his whereabouts. If he decides to make the rare attempt to study, that's his business."

"You were obviously together, Hermione!" Ron argued. "We saw your little dots right next to each other for a long time…"

"Honestly, Ron, you're as bad as Harry!" Hermione was tiring of this argument quickly. "Staring at those "little dots" all day!"

"Hermione, it's important to know who's in the castle." Harry interjected, not at all happy that his name had been reintroduced into the conversation.

"I couldn't agree more, Harry, we need to know if anyone gets in to Hogwarts!" She turned her attention her other friend. "But what good have you done so far by watching the ones that are already here?"

"Hermione, someone who's already here could be up to something…" Harry was growing frustrated now, but Hermione certainly wasn't about to stop now.

"Well, am I one of those people, Harry? Because it sounds like you were watching _me_." Hermione spat, eyeing both of her friends carefully as their expressions turned somewhat guilty.

"Of course not, Hermione." Harry assured her, taking a step forward and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "But when I saw Malfoy with you, I told Ron because I was worried that he was giving you a hard time. We were coming to check on you when we saw you had left so we met you here instead."

"I appreciate that you two want to look out for me, I really do," Hermione tried to soften her tone, but she was finding it difficult. Between Malfoy, and Harry, and Ron, she had had more than enough of being told what she should or should not be doing. "But as I've been trying to tell you all year, I can take care of myself. Malfoy was just being himself, nothing more sinister than that."

"Oh yeah?" Ron also took a step forward, but he didn't reach out to Hermione. Instead he only fixed her with a look she was all too familiar with. It was a look that at once expressed how much she had gotten to him with her former comment and how far he was willing to go to cover that up. He'd always been so proud when it came to his friendship with Hermione, and she knew he wasn't going to stop. "Well, explain why you were with Malfoy in the library for the _second_ time today."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione gasped, unable to contain her surprise. How much did they know exactly?

"The other night you left to go to the library, and Malfoy was there too. Doesn't seem the type to study that much, does he?" Ron demanded.

"I don't know, Ron," Hermione was shouting now. "I don't know what his study habits are, because I don't spend all my time thinking about what he's doing with his time." She shot a glance at Harry, and he had the good manners to look a little guilty. "And you know what Ron? I don't have to explain myself, and what I do with my time, to anyone, and certainly not you. You'd better run along Won Won, I'm sure Lav Lav is looking for you."

"Stop calling me that!" Ron shouted back, but any further retort was cut off when the portrait hole swung open, and none other than Lavender entered at that moment.

"Ah, right on cue," Hermione remarked with satisfaction, pushing past her friends and the bewildered Lavender. As she was climbing out of the portrait hole she heard with satisfaction as Lavender snapped at her boyfriend.

"Why are you always so concerned with _her_?"


	7. Chapter 7

Draco had only made it a few feet when he heard a regretfully familiar voice calling his name. Draco wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, let alone Pansy, but he felt his angry steps slowing anyway. His relationship or lack thereof with Pansy was complicated. It was true he couldn't stand her fifty percent of the time, but that meant that he could stand her fifty percent more often than he could stand most people.

"Draco!" He turned slowly to face her, and realized instantly that his current expression must be even more livid than he thought. Pansy shrunk back half a step after catching a glimpse of his face.

"What?" He folded his arms and made a half-hearted effort to control his features.

Pansy hesitated for another moment eying him questioningly, and Draco felt the unfamiliar stirring of an emotion that might have been the beginnings of guilt in the type of person actually capable of feeling guilty. She looked a little scared of him in that moment. Draco almost said something, but feeling completely unable to conjure a comforting sentence, he instead simply clenched his mouth shut tighter and waited for Pansy to speak.

Pansy seemed to recover suddenly, her expression returning to its usual pout. "Where are you going?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," Draco snapped, hoping Pansy would just give up on him for the evening and leave him alone.

"What's with you lately?" Pansy put hand on her hip and shook her head to flip her fringe out of her eyes. "You're never around, you blow me off, you ignore Blaise, you only talk to Crabbe and Goyle when you need something…"

"Well, that's nothing new," Draco pointed out impatiently.

"Yeah, but now you're not even telling Blaise and I what you're making them do!" She exclaimed, eyeing him closely as if she would suddenly spot all the answers written plainly across his face. "Crabbe let something slip about standing guard, but he seemed too embarrassed to explain, and to embarrass _him_ it must be something really...ouch!"

Draco had seized Pansy's arm and dragged her forcefully around the corner and away from the crowded corridor they'd previously occupied. He pushed her against the wall, not trying to hurt her just attempting to shut her up. He knew it had been a mistake to let anything slip in front of her on the train, now she was just going to be curious all year and make his life that much more difficult.

"Draco, you're hurting me," She stated harshly, struggling against the death grip he still had on her arm. Draco allowed her to shove him away, reminded briefly of Granger and the reason he'd been so angry in the first place. "What's wrong with you?"

Draco forcibly brought his mind back to the present and returned his attention to Pansy.

"Listen Parkinson, just keep your nose out of my business alright? Don't go around talking about things you don't understand where anybody could here you."

She glared at him for a moment before mumbling something he couldn't quiet make out while she straightened her uniform.

"What?" He asked, relaxing slightly as it didn't seem likely that Pansy was going to start shouting his secrets to the world, at least not at the moment.

She looked up and met his eyes determinedly, though her expression betrayed that she wasn't as confident as she wanted to appear. She was a funny one, Pansy. She was almost as sarcastic and elitist as he was, she came from a wealthy and privileged lifestyle and she enjoyed it. They had a lot in common, but the difference was Pansy _cared_. Pansy cared about living up to her parents expectations, cared about getting good grades, cared about whether or not Draco liked her. And the thing was, her parents were even less affectionate than Draco's father was, classes that came easily to Draco were challenging at best for Pansy, and probably most disappointingly of all, Draco had never been able to decide if he truly had any sort of romantic feelings for her or not. He would flirt when he was bored, seek her out when he needed attention or an ego boost, treat her as just another member of the gang when he only felt like being friends, and ignore her when he didn't feel like any of the above. It wasn't particularly fair, and it wasn't particularly nice, but neither of those things bothered Draco much, at least not usually.

"Don't call me, Parkinson," Pansy snapped, loud enough for him to hear this time.

Draco laughed. He couldn't help it, she was just so predictable. After grabbing her arm, pushing her against a wall, and yelling at her, all Pansy cared was that he had called her by her last name.

"Stop laughing!" She demanded, trying to step around him and make a somewhat dignified exit.

"Pansy," He started, noting with satisfaction that at the sound of her name, she stopped trying to leave, though she folded her arms and continued to glare up at him. "Pansy, just stay out of it ok?"

She turned her head, and stared determinedly down the hallway, but it was obvious she knew what "it" he was talking about.

"Don't ask Crabbe and Goyle questions, they don't know much but they're too thick to keep their mouths shut. And for Merlin's sake, don't talk about it. Just let it be." Draco didn't want to fight with her, in the mood he was in right now a fight would probably result in him hexing her, and that would be unfortunate. But it was incredibly important that he got through to her at the moment, or they would probably both end up dead.

She turned her head towards him again, looking almost hopeful. Draco thought uncomfortably how much she looked like a lost little girl at the moment, looking to him of all people for help.

"I could help you," Her voice was almost a whisper, hopeful and almost pleading, but Draco was already shaking his head tiredly before the words were fully out of her mouth.

"No," He countered shortly, stepping back so that she could leave. "You can't." He ignored her this time as she called after him, heading off toward his original destination. He wouldn't be using Crabbe and Goyle as guards today, even in disguise they were bound to draw attention if they were there everyday. And besides, as Pansy had just illustrated he couldn't really trust anyone to help him in anyway, no matter how much he left that person in the dark. It just made things more complicated, as if that were really even possible.

Draco took a twisted and out of the way route to get to the Room of Requirement. Without even his inept guards to keep a look out, he was even more aware of the possibility that someone might notice how often he was approaching this particular area of the castle. Doing his best to appear casual despite the fact that he was the only one within sight, Draco finally deemed it safe enough to enter the room. He paced back and forth in front of it quickly, focusing his mind on what he needed to do, and then entered the room as the door magically appeared in front of him.

It was an odd relationship he had with this room. It was because of this room that his father was in Azkaban, it was because of what was in this room that he had to spend so much of time stressed to the breaking point. But the Room of Requirement was also one of the few places at Hogwarts where Draco could be really and truly alone, and that was a blessing even if he didn't like to admit it to himself. He had always been the type of person who was at their most comfortable when surrounded by an attentive crowd, and yet now all he wanted was to be left alone. Setting his face in a determined grimace he approached the object he had come to resent, and began for perhaps the hundredth time that year the task that he was beginning to fear was impossible.

It was nearly three hours before Draco realized that he should probably get back to the dungeons before too many people noticed he was gone. The small gold pocket watch he always kept in the pocket of his robes informed him that it was nearly 10 pm and he knew the halls would be patrolled soon. Tucking his watch back in his pocket and removing his wand Draco made his way towards the door cautiously. He was worried that without anyone to check if the coast was clear, he could easily be caught exiting the room, and that just wouldn't do. Draco pressed an ear against the wood of the door, practically holding his breath as he struggled to hear any activity in the hallway. He stayed frozen like that for a few moments, far more nervous than he'd like to admit.

Taking a deep breath than letting it out slowly, Draco steeled his nerve.

"Lumos," He whispered, as his wand began to glow. He knew that at this point the halls would not be pitch black, but a lot darker than they had been. Maybe the founders had wanted to keep Hogwarts an unappealing place to explore by night, because the lighting was less than ideal.

Draco pushed the door open a crack, sticking his head out apprehensively, ready for the worst. He craned his head slowly to the left than the right, trying to examine as much of the surrounding area as possible without allowing himself to be seen if there was someone there. He had just decided it was safe to exit the room fully when he heard a soft sight from a spot near the floor directly in front of him.

Draco jumped and had to stifle the shout that threatened to escape. For a moment he simply froze, waiting for the attack he was sure was about to come. He wasn't sure if he should slip back into the room or stand his ground, so he just remained still, his heart pounding in his chest. Finally after a few moments of unbroken silence in which no attack materialized, Draco gathered his courage and slowly reached out the hand that held his wand. He lowered his wand until the light fell on a slouching figure, leaning against the wall while half-sprawling across the floor. He could see that the person's chest was rising and falling in an even rhythm, and he realized that they were asleep. Then the light fell on the figure's face, and indignant recognition hit him like a brick. Keeping his wits about him he slipped out of the room and watched to make sure the door had faded away before he approached the person he was not happy to see.

"Granger!"

She woke up instantly, sitting up like a shot, eyes wide. She looked up only to be met with his wand that was pointed at her face, and his scowling expression. He saw her take a deep breath, than close her eyes for a moment, as if to collect herself. Suddenly a strange thought occurred to him. It almost seemed like she was _relieved_ that it was him. She had probably been dreaming that some troll was about to beat her brains in, than she'd woken up to see him, and actually considered him to be a better alternative. Draco decided that stupid thoughts like that really weren't useful at the moment, so instead he focused on keeping his wand steady and pointed at Granger.

"Malfoy," She breathed, sitting up a little more, and looking around. "What time is it?"

"Past your bedtime, Granger," He snapped, still not lowering his wand. "What are you doing here?"

"Lower your wand, Malfoy!" She snapped back, swatting at him with one hand and shielding her eyes from the light with the other.

"Don't test me, Granger," He growled, not lowering his wand an inch. "Did you follow me?"

"Stop flattering yourself," She spat, swatting his hand harder this time. "You think I would sit out here waiting for you?"

"Yes," Draco answered instantly, lowering his wand slightly but keeping it pointed at her torso in case he decided that some kind of a jinx was needed.

"Well, I wasn't," She sounded offended but not like she was lying.

"Spit it out, Granger," He didn't understand what she was doing there, and he was just too tired to deal with something that just defied logic like Granger's behavior usually did. "What are you doing sleeping in the hallway?"

She glared at him and started to stand up, but he pressed his wand into her chest, and she lowered herself back onto the floor.

"Oh fine!" She exclaimed, raising her hands and then slapping them back down onto the stone floor, the sound echoing in the relative silence around them. "I wanted to be alone! I wanted to be alone so I thought of the…"

"Room of Requirement," He supplied, keeping his wanted steady. "Your little club used it last year."

She nodded, eyeing his wand before continuing. "But then when I got here it wouldn't let me in! I kept thinking how I needed somewhere to be alone, and it wouldn't let me in! So I knew that someone had to be in there, but I didn't have anywhere else to go, so I just sat down. I must have fallen asleep."

"Why would you want to be alone?" Draco couldn't take any chances, and Granger's story didn't make much sense to him. "I would have thought you'd be having a grand old time telling your little buddies how you put your little Mudblood hands on me and lived to tell the tale."

"Yes, well, you might think that," Granger answered harshly, "But then you don't know me very well, do you Malfoy?"

"Thank Merlin for small favors," Draco agreed, smirking a bit despite himself as some of his initial panic dissipated.

"What were you doing in there anyway?" Granger asked curiously, her eyes narrowing as she searched his face.

"That's none of your business!" He snarled, poking his wand harshly into her shoulder, bending over until his face was inches from hers. He couldn't believe he was having to give the same speech twice in one day, first to Pansy and now Granger of all people. Just like Pansy, Granger shrank back a little, and Draco felt that tiny tugging deep inside of him, like the tiniest beginnings of what could have been guilt in someone else. "I wanted to be alone too, Granger." He finally said, lowering his wand, and throwing the area around them into darkness. "That's why it wouldn't let you in." It wasn't a complete lie, and it seemed to satisfy her.

She nodded, all of the fear gone from expression. "That makes sense, if it let me in the room wouldn't be doing its job for either of us."

There was a moment of awkward silence as neither of them said anything or made a move to leave. Draco was torn between disdain and anger at the girl who had humiliated him in the library, whose mere existence dirtied the halls of his school. And yet, they were both here, both wanting nothing more than to be left alone. The time would come for Granger to get what she deserved, but Draco decided that it wasn't going to be tonight.

Draco spun on his heels suddenly, and started to walk away in the direction of the dungeons.

"Malfoy!" Her voice sounded uncertain, and he stopped despite his best intentions not to. He looked over his shoulder despite the fact that he could no longer see her. His wand was too far away to cast a glow on that portion of the hallway, and it seemed she hadn't yet taken her wand out.

He didn't say anything, but she seemed to sense that he had stopped.

"I'm sorry," Her voice was grudging, as if the last thing she wanted to do was apologize to him. "I shouldn't have shoved you. You weren't being…well, you weren't being anymore of a prat than usual. I was just mad…but…well, it wasn't about you, so, I'm sorry."

Draco considered his options for a moment, sorely tempted to shout something about not needing apologies from Mudbloods but for some reason he didn't. Seeing Granger again had only cemented the anger he felt at the things she had said earlier, and how miserably true they had all been. He reconsidered shouting an insult, but once again decided inexplicably against it.

Instead he merely called back, "You owe me homework, Granger. You had two flying lessons, I only got one essay. I always collect on what I'm owed."

With that Draco stalked off into the darkness, realizing that he was more at home alone in the dark than anywhere else.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on the chapter, the holidays kept me pretty busy. Happy New Year!

The morning after her fight with her friends and her subsequent encounter with Malfoy, Hermione woke up with an intense and un-relenting headache. She was dreading leaving the warmth and comfort of her bed for the icy reception she was sure awaited her at breakfast. After having a long and sleepless night to consider it, she felt incredibly guilty about her treatment of her friends, especially Ron.

Ron had been in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time to receive her full wrath. She had been nervous and guilty over the library incident with Malfoy, jealous and hurt that Ron was spending so much time with Lavender, and terrified that her friends would find out that not only had she failed miserably at something, but she had also asked Malfoy of all people to help her.

Hermione loved and trusted her friends, but as much as she hated to admit it, she was a proud person. She was petrified of what would happen if they found out about her arrangement with Malfoy. The inevitable question would follow, the question about how on Earth she had thought that she could go to Malfoy for help before her best friends. Hermione didn't know the answer to that question and didn't have any desire to attempt to justify her thought process to anyone else.

Hermione got dressed slowly, waiting to leave the dormitory until she was sure she was alone. She knew the other girls were starting to whisper about her when they thought she was asleep or just not paying attention. They had always thought Hermione was a bit odd and aloof, choosing to hang out with Harry and Ron as opposed to the other girls and actually choosing to study without being forced. However, they'd always been friendly enough with her until Lavender and Ron had started dating. Up until this point in her life Hermione had always been fairly removed from disputes among girls, but she was introduced to the concept quickly once Lavender decided Hermione was attempting to steal Ron from her. The truth was Hermione was just heartbroken that Ron had chosen someone else to begin with. She didn't want to steal someone who didn't even want to be stolen.

Hermione sighed and smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle in her skirt for the fifth time before finally forcing herself to leave for breakfast. The Great Hall was already full by the time she arrived, and Hermione felt as though she were showing up somewhere she shouldn't be, ridiculous as that thought might have been. She had as much right to breakfast as anyone else, but it didn't feel that way as she took the long walk to the Gryffindor table.

Hermione approached her friends cautiously, ready to snatch something to eat and make a hasty escape if it came to that. Ron and Lavender were too occupied to notice her approach, but Harry caught sight of her and gave her a weak smile before glancing nervously toward Ron. Hermione shrugged in what she hoped was a somewhat apologetic manner and turned to go. She decided there was no reason to force herself and everyone else into an awkward situation first thing in the morning. She would manage to get Ron on his own somehow later and apologize for overreacting while simultaneously convincing him to admit that he had been an overstepping jerk and then everything would be sorted out nicely.

"Hermione!" She turned slowly, attempting to hide the grimace that had sprung to her face upon the sound of her name.

"Morning, Neville," Hermione addressed the boy seated to Harry's right with what she hoped was a passable impression of cheer.

"Do you think you could look over my Defense Against the Dark Arts essay while you eat?" Neville asked hopefully. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't for Professor Snape…he makes me so nervous!"

Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for Neville. Snape's appointment as Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn't popular with a lot of students, but she knew it had affected Neville more than most. If the bogart he had faced in their third year was to be believed than Snape was Neville's greatest fear, and she could certainly understand why. On the other hand, his marks in Potions had increased considerably under Professor Slughorn's somewhat less intimidating approach.

"Of course, Neville," Hermione answered, feeling herself start to blush in a highly unattractive way under the glares she was receiving from both Ron and Lavender.

Neville started to slide down to let Hermione take the empty seat beside him when Harry realized that would put her directly across from Lavender. In a comical act of chivalry he reached out with his seeker's reflexes and yanked Neville closer to him instead, creating a seat slightly less in the line of fire. Hermione would have laughed at the pure ridiculousness of the situation if she hadn't been so annoyed at Ron and ashamed of herself for letting this tension develop. Neville merely looked around confusedly from one of his friends to the other, before Hermione gently took the essay from him.

Hermione was glad of the distraction, taking out her quill and making a few minor adjustments to Neville's essay. When she had finished she handed it back to him, accepted his thanks, and filed out of the Great Hall with the rest of the students. It wasn't until she was seated in Defense Against the Dark Arts and her stomach growled embarrassingly that she realized she hadn't gotten around to eating anything at all. She heard a few snickers from the class, and Neville who was seated next to her looked slightly guilty, but Hermione simply tried to focus on what Snape was saying.

"Out of concern for your marks," Snape intoned as though concern for his students was the furthest thing from his mind, " I feel it my duty to remind you of the additional areas you will be tested on this year."

Hermione sucked in a breath and bit down on harshly on her lip in an attempt to keep herself from looking over at the side of the room she knew Malfoy occupied. She could get through this if she just pretended that a particular blonde Slytherin didn't exist. While she was imagining people out of existence, Hermione decided to add Lavender to the list, then realizing that they were pretty much a set these days, she banished Ron as well. Hermione mentally decided that Harry could continue to exist on a provisional status, and was just deciding about the Patil twins when she was forced back to reality by a small piece of parchment floating purposefully onto her desk.

Hermione looked up quickly, convinced that Snape would be descending upon her any second to give her detention for the rest of the year. To her relief Hermione realized that Snape was currently on the opposite side of the room examining Dean Thomas's essay. Hermione took the opportunity this presented to quickly examine the note in her hands. Hermione glanced down at the parchment quickly, and felt her stomach drop as she read the words scrawled there.

_Question: What has bushy hair, a big mouth, and no friends?_

_Answer: Hermione Granger_

Hermione stared at the parchment in disbelief, her hands trembling slightly. Who would want send her a note like that? Hermione looked up slowly, first confirming that Snape was still occupied before looking around the room for likely suspects. Next to her Neville seemed oblivious to the fact that anything had happened at all as he was too busy trying to make himself invisible to Snape. Hermione swept her eyes over the other students determined to notice the smallest sign that someone had been watching her for a reaction to their hideous little prank.

Hermione's eyes moved swiftly over the classroom without hesitation until she reached a pair of eyes that were looking back at her. Malfoy! Of course Malfoy had sent the note, who else would want to mess with her head like that? Hermione glared fiercely at the Slytherin, forcing down a feeling that felt strangely similar to relief. If Malfoy had sent the note than nothing had changed. Malfoy had always thought she was worth less than the dirt under his shoe, Hermione was used to ignoring his opinion straight away. If the note had been from someone else it would have meant that someone _else_ thought those things about her and that was a much more unpleasant possibility.

Malfoy's reaction however, was not exactly what Hermione would have expected. She would have thought he'd be reveling in her annoyance with his Slytherin buddies, instead he was just gave her an annoyed and dismissive look while mouthing, "What?"

Hermione refused to let herself be provoked by such an obvious example of false innocence. She simply mouthed back, "Shove off, Ferret", and ignoring how his face twisted with anger, turned away from him.

Hermione's gaze fell back on the parchment she was clutching tightly in her fingers. Hermione watched with displeasure as the words on the parchment faded only to be replaced with another cruel statement.

_Ugly know it alls should keep their hands off of boys who find them disgusting. _

Hermione failed to stop a small gasp from escaping as she clutched even more tightly at the horrid little parchment. A loud giggle broke into Hermione's thoughts and she snapped her head involuntarily toward the sound. What Hermione saw hit her like a punch in the stomach. Lavender Brown was laughing as though someone had just told her the funniest joke in the world and if her staring was any indication, then the joke was Hermione.

Hermione glanced down at the parchment again in a sort of surreal disbelief.

_Ugly know it alls should keep their hands off of boys who find them disgusting. _

Lavender had sent the note. So it hadn't been Malfoy after all, but someone far worse. Hermione hadn't ever been especially fond of Lavender, and Lavender's relationship with Ron had even evoked feelings of genuine dislike for the girl in Hermione. But Hermione could not imagine saying or for that matter, writing, such hurtful things. The fact that Ron's girlfriend had no such difficulties made Hermione equally hurt and livid. Hermione tried to keep her mind from drifting to perhaps the most distressing part of it all, "boys who find them disgusting". _Ron_. Did Ron really find her disgusting?

Hermione shook her head firmly, as if pure willpower could force the thought from her mind. Blinking back the tears that threatened to escape, Hermione felt her pride taking over to run her mind on autopilot until she could recover enough to carry on normally. Somewhere in the back of her mind she vaguely registered that it was important not to appear as though the note had affected her.

Hermione took a deep breath, set her face in a determinedly neutral expression, and crumpled the parchment into a satisfyingly small ball.

"Place your essays on the table," Snape announced, "And those of you who wish to pass this course will keep in mind that length requirements are not optional."

Hermione placed her essay on the table with a bit more force than was strictly necessary, and exited the classroom wondering what had happened to the good old days. The days where she and her friends were inseparable, Lavender Brown was just someone she shared a dorm with, and Malfoy was always to blame.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco watched Granger's hasty exit with thinly veiled interest. He knew he had been blamed for something, and he also knew that whatever it was, he hadn't done it. But he wasn't interested because Granger had called him Ferret and told him to shove off. No, he was interested because someone had sent Granger a note that almost made her cry. He had said a lot of insulting things to Granger over the years, but he had never made her cry or even come particularly close as far as he could tell. This failure to produce the mudblood waterworks certainly wasn't from lack of trying. There had been countless times where Draco had bent his entire will on cracking that infuriatingly calm exterior Granger had perfected over the years.

Of course, after she'd almost gotten them both killed she'd sobbed like a little baby. But that had been different. Draco had been running on too much adrenaline and concern that he would be blamed for the death of Potter's sidekick to take any enjoyment in the girl's misery. And if he were truly honest with himself, he knew that he didn't really want to see Granger cry anyway. He didn't do well with crying. He just wanted the satisfaction that he had been able to make her do it, and then she could run away and do her blubbering in private.

But the fact remained that after all his failure in that particular area (failure seemed to be becoming something of a specialty of his) _someone_ had very nearly succeeded with minimal effort, and that was intriguing. Draco had been putting the finishing touches on his essay which he should have completed the night before, and was still dismally far from the length requirement Snape had set, when he'd noticed out of the corner of his eye something floating lazily toward Granger's desk. Draco's first instinct was to look for Snape, assuming the note was about to be confiscated and Granger would get a thorough verbal thrashing. Snape however appeared to be occupied, and so Draco turned his attention curiously back to Granger. Maybe he should alert Snape that the Mudblood and her friends were passing notes…

Draco had his mouth halfway open to alert Snape when he caught sight of the look on Granger's face. She was clutching the little scrap of parchment with shaking hands and eyeing it with complete shock. Draco glanced around to see who else had noticed Granger's reaction and realized that he appeared to be the only one. Even Potter and the Weasel seemed to be oblivious to their friend's unease, and for some reason Draco seemed to be the only one who was concerned. Not that his interest in getting to the bottom of the situation really qualified as concern.

Draco was still watching her out of the corner of his eye, when suddenly she lifted her head and swept her eyes around the classroom. Draco took this to mean she didn't know who had sent the note, and he was just contemplating likely culprits when her gaze snapped in his direction. She glared at him for a few seconds before he caught on. She thought the note was from _him_! Ok, so that wasn't exactly a shocking assumption, but in this case he was, shockingly, innocent.

"What?" He mouthed at her, conscious both of the close proximity of Snape and his Slytherin friends, neither of which did he want to see him engaging any sort of conversation with Granger.

"Shove off, Ferret!" She mouthed back, and ignoring the daggers he was shooting at her, she turned back to her desk.

Draco was just considering what kind of curses he could use to convince her just how bad an idea it was to call him Ferret, when he heard a small gasp from her direction. Against his better judgment he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and realized that whatever was on that parchment must have gotten even worse. Now that was interesting. Almost as interesting as the fact that he was no longer the only one noticing Granger's reaction. That girl Weasley was dating, the one who was named after a scent…Jasmine, or Lavender or something, was laughing in Granger's general direction and Granger seemed to have reached the same conclusion about this that Draco had – the Weasel's little girlfriend was behind the note. Draco didn't bother suppressing the small smirk that this sight brought to his face. So, now she would know that not everything that went wrong in her pathetic life was his fault, certainly not amateur antics like note passing…

But looking back, he had to admit that his initial amusement at Granger's distress didn't fully explain why he continued to watch her reactions for the last few minutes of class. It didn't explain why he turned in his essay to Snape barely more than half-finished. And it certainly didn't explain why when he saw her knock the crumpled up parchment off of her desk in her hurry to leave, he quietly, and discreetly collected it.

No, simple pleasure at Granger being distraught didn't explain any of that. Draco had always been able to lash out at Granger when he needed an outlet over the years. In a sick way, she'd been one of the few constants in his life, along with her annoying friends. It had always given him a sense of control to be able to push her buttons at will, even if she did try to hide it with that smug indifference. Now that everything else in his life was becoming so completely out of his hands, he needed that sense of control more than ever, which probably accounted for the reason he had agreed to give her flying lessons. A distraction, an exercise in control…that was what Granger could offer him this year. But after recent events Granger had stopped being predictable, had started to make him feel uneasy and angry in an entirely new fashion. He needed leverage to put himself back firmly on top of the situation, and Draco was pretty sure he was holding it in his hand.

Draco glanced down at the parchment in his hand, and after glancing around to make sure no one would notice, he smoothed it out. Reading the flashing messages that appeared on its surface, Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise. Whatever he'd been expecting it to say, it wasn't that. The note had a Slytherin quality to it, this girl had known exactly how to cut straight to the heart of Granger's emotions. Draco carefully folded the parchment and stuffed it into his pocket. He vaguely wondered if Granger would be able to cry on Potter's shoulder or if he would side with the Weasel and his loony girlfriend, but banished the thought quickly.

"Let her cry on a gargoyle's shoulder for all I care," Draco thought dismissively as he exited the classroom. This had been an interesting diversion, but the Room of Requirement was waiting for him…it always was.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, college takes up a surprisingly large amount of time:p I'm not 100 happy with this chapter, it was really hard to write because I know in a couple of chapters it's going to get really good…and I'm freaking impatient to get to that point! But I think the story should actually make sense SO I am taking my time. Any reviews would make me so happy and keep the chapters coming, so if you have a second that would be awesome. Constructive comments are always welcome to, because like I said I'm not sure about this one. Also, I know there's a lack of Draco, but he's back next chapter, so don't worry. Ok, that's enough…enjoy!

Chapter 10:

Hermione left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on shaky legs, trying to pretend that she didn't care a bit about the piece of parchment that had in reality so thoroughly rattled her. There was really no reason to be so upset, she reasoned with herself. It had probably been Lavender's idea of a really good joke, it wasn't like she really thought Hermione was an ugly and pathetic hanger on trying to steal her boyfriend…

Actually, Hermione acknowledged, that seemed to be exactly what Lavender thought.

"It doesn't matter," she whispered to herself, closing her eyes for a moment as the cruel words she'd seen scrawled across that horrid little scrap of paper drifted through her mind again. "When have you ever cared what other people thought?"

Hermione took another few dragging steps, considering the question truthfully. The fact was that Hermione Granger was a girl who prided herself on being better than to judge herself by the opinions of others and tried very hard to do so, but she did not always succeed. Before she'd come to Hogwarts, before she'd even known she was a witch, she'd had very few friends and had been constantly teased for her bushy hair, big teeth, and untouchable status as the teacher's pet. When her letter had arrived, the feelings of disbelief were replaced quickly with an almost desperate eagerness. Finally, a new start, another chance to fit in, and this time everyone would be like her, perhaps she wasn't strange at all… But Hogwarts had not proved to be the perfect escape she had hoped it would be. At first, everyone at her magical school seemed to feel much the same about her as her former muggle classmates had. Even Harry and Ron didn't exactly warm to her until the troll incident…

And of course, there were the comments and insults hurled at her on a daily basis by Draco Malfoy, insults that had always stung just a little bit more than she was ever willing to admit. It sounded so vain to say it, but as distant as other students at Hogwarts could be to Hermione, they all had to admit that she was a very intelligent witch, something she took a secret pride in. There was no convincing Malfoy though, there never had been, and the tiny, insecure fear that he could be right crept up on her at the oddest moments. Like now.

Her other friendships at Hogwarts had been shallow at best, but what did that really matter as long as she had Harry and Ron? Who else could even understand the things they had been involved with, the things they had seen over the years? She'd been very friendly with Ginny Weasley of course, and Neville had always been a friend. But beyond that Hermione tended to stay on the outside of the social circles at Hogwarts, leaving the room when a plan to prank Filch was being discussed in the common room and pretending to be asleep while the other girls gossiped in the dormitory. Sometimes she had wanted to insert herself into these situations somehow, but she simply wasn't equipped. But she'd always had Ron and Harry, only now…

A high pitched giggle rang out in the hallway from behind Hermione, and she felt herself cringing without meaning to. She turned towards the sound seemingly against her will, drawn like a moth towards the flame that would inevitably eat her alive if she stared into it for too long.

Lavender and Ron were finally emerging from Defense Against the Dart Arts and Hermione felt her eyes burn with unshed tears at the sight before her. Lavender's hand was casually entwined with Ron's, and even if he did look a bit embarrassed, he wasn't exactly pulling away from her, and at the moment that was all the confirmation of his betrayal, of his _choice_, that Hermione needed. Lavender was talking loudly at an almost inhuman speed, her hand that wasn't engaged with Ron's gesturing wildly as if to reinforce the importance of her chatter. Hermione watched with a detached sort of sadness and the hidden hint of jealousy, feeling so separate from the scene before she almost could have believed herself to be invisible.

"And then Parvati said that Padma said that Anthony Goldstein is brewing a love potion, right now he's got it simmering up in the dormitory under his bed! He's been pining over a Hufflepuff or something. But then Ginny said that Michael Corner said that he couldn't be because it would have been noticed. But now that they've broken up I don't really think he's that reliable a source, who's to say he's not keeping a secret for his friend? I mean it's awfully sad isn't? That some people need a potion to get someone to fall in love with them? I mean…"

Lavender's speech halted suddenly, and Hermione found that she was most certainly not as invisible as had previously felt. In fact, Hermione felt all too aware of her bushy hair, her red rimmed eyes, and her heavy bag full of useless books hanging limply at her side as both Lavender and Ron seemed to notice her standing forlornly in the middle of the hallway.

Lavender's eyes drifted over Hermione appraisingly, taking in her appearance with a dismissive clearing of her throat. Ron looked like he'd rather be anywhere than where he was as he glanced quickly back and forth between Hermione and Lavender.

"Oh, hello Hermione," Lavender said in a voice so sweet it made Hermione's skin crawl. "Were you waiting for someone?"

Hermione searched her mind for words that wouldn't betray the inner turmoil she couldn't fully admit even to herself. It was so wrong. It was all just so wrong. This girl shouldn't be holding Ron's hand. When had the world gotten so confusing? It was one of the first times in her life that Hermione was confronted with a problem that couldn't be solved through research or books. Hermione glanced at Ron without meaning to out of habit, desperate to see if his familiar friendly gaze instead of the one of disgust Lavender's note had suggested she would see.

Ron's expression turned guilty, and perhaps thinking she'd been waiting for him, possibly to apologize, quickly shook off Lavender's grip on his hand. This action earned him a glare from his girlfriend, but Ron kept his eyes darting between Hermione and the floor of the hallway, searching for somewhere safe to rest. Hermione knew the feeling all too well.

"I was…" Hermione trailed off, embarrassed to hear her own voice sound so quiet and weak. Mentally urging herself to get a grip, Hermione gathered her wits and searched for an answer that wasn't humiliating. "I was…"

At that moment, Harry and Neville appeared at Ron's shoulder, and Hermione didn't think she'd ever been happier to see her best friend, not even in all of the life threatening situations they'd been through together.

"I was just waiting for Harry," She announced, her voice steady with her renewed effort not to show any weakness.

Harry's head snapped up at the sound of his name, taking in the scene before him for the first time. His expression settled into one of resolved annoyance as he realized he had just walked into another highly charged situation involving Hermione and Ron, and it was clear he didn't have any patience for it.

"Right," He nodded, hoisting his bag higher onto his shoulder determinedly. "I'll see you later Neville, Ron."

Hermione smiled gratefully at her friend, offered a small, noncommittal wave to the three they were leaving behind, and grabbed Harry's arm to steer him quickly away from the nightmare behind her.

"Everything alright, Hermione?" Harry asked, genuine concern lacing his voice as he observed the break neck pace at which she was practically dragging him down the hallway.

"Yes, well…no, I mean…it's complicated, Harry. It's so complicated," She answered exasperatedly, realizing belatedly that it was probably the truest answer she'd given in weeks and she wasn't at all sure if that was a good thing.

"Um hm," Harry agreed uneasily, obviously torn between getting to the bottom of his friend's problem, but unpleasantly convinced that he already knew what that problem was.

Hermione sighed, torn between the urge to pour out her heart and explain to Harry exactly what had upset her so much and the fierce need to appear to be above it all.

"Whatever it is, you can talk to me, Hermione," Harry finally offered, placing his hand comfortingly on her shoulder.

She gave him a skeptical smile that he returned, knowing exactly what she was likely to be thinking at that moment.

"I mean it Hermione, _whatever_ it is," Harry hesitated a moment before adding, "Or whoever it is I suppose."

"It's not Ron," Hermione assured him quickly, increasing her stride until Harry had to practically jog to keep up with her. She didn't want to take any chances that the students she was speaking about would catch up with them. "Well, at least not for the most part. Harry…it's Lavender."

"What about her?" Harry asked, struggling to keep his expression neutral, an effort Hermione appreciated more than she would probably ever be able or willing to explain to him.

"Do you like her?" Hermione asked softly, attempting to act as though the answer didn't matter.

"Not as much as you," Harry answered quickly, seemingly encouraged to have a question he could answer so easily. "She's not going to replace you, Hermione."

"That's sweet, Harry," Hermione smiled for a moment but found herself unable to hold on to it. "But that's not what I'm worried about really…it's just…she sent me something."

"She sent you something?" Harry squinted at Hermione in confusion, hesitating a moment before asking, "By owl?"

"No, not by owl," Hermione shook her head staring determinedly down the hallway rather than meeting Harry's eyes. "Just now, in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"She couldn't have," Harry shook his head, confusion showing in his expression. "Ron was right beside her the whole time and he didn't say anything…besides Snape would have noticed her passing notes, he lives for stuff like that…"

"Well, she did," Hermione said firmly, "And Snape didn't see. And Ron…" She trailed off, searching for the right way to broach this subject without alienating the one real friend she had left. She knew Harry cared about her, but would he really stick with her if it came down to believing something unpleasant about Ron?

"What she wrote, it made it seem like he knew she was going to say something cruel." Hermione paused for a moment to keep her voice from catching as she was certain it had been about to do. "She made it seem like he agreed with her."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, and Hermione desperately wished she hadn't confided anything at all.

"Will you tell me what the note said?" Harry asked finally, his voice sounding cautious but not as disbelieving as Hermione was expecting it to be.

"It doesn't matter, Harry," Hermione wasn't sure why she didn't want to tell Harry what the note had said, she just knew whole heartedly that she didn't. Something about repeating the sentences that had cut her so deeply seemed terrifying and unnecessary. "Do you think…do you think Ron…"

"Ron's mad at you right now, Hermione," Harry answered without waiting for her to fully form the question. "He's really mad, and um, well I'm pretty sure he thinks it's complicated too, but he doesn't have the emotional range to say that. He can only be one thing at a time, and right now that thing is angry."

Hermione remembered her comment about Ron having the emotional range of a teaspoon and almost smiled but didn't. It seemed like so long ago.

"But that doesn't give him the right to be a prat to you," Harry continued, his voice quietly determined.

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione answered softly as they reached the Fat Lady's portrait and entered the common room.

Hermione was grateful that Harry was sticking up for her, she really was. But she couldn't help but notice he hadn't tried to assure her of Ron's innocence. Hermione forced her face to remain emotionless as she realized that the truth was the last thing she had wanted after all.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: I find myself once again apologizing for how long it has taken me to update. College is hard. Go figure. I have been working on this chapter for well over a week, I promise. ANYWAY…this chapter returns to Draco, and while that's not too surprising since as I'm sure you've all noticed, the chapters simply switch back and forth…it is always fun to write Draco's perspective. In case anyone is interested and hasn't found them already I have posted a very different one-shot called "Pathetic" and the first part of what will be a short Draco/Hermione story called "More Than One Kind of Pain". Enjoy…and please, please, pretty please with a cherry and a little sprinkle of Draco Malfoy on top leave me a review? Thanks:p Oh yeah…and I'm trying something new. I'm adding lyrics that relate to the story at the beginning, I might go back and add to the chapters already posted, maybe not, hard to tell. Ok here goes…

Chapter 11:

_This town is colder now_

_I think it's sick of us…_

_I've got my heart set_

_On anywhere but here…_

_I'm staring down myself_

_Counting up the years…_

_Time to make one last appeal_

_For the life I lead_

_-"Stop and Stare" by One Republic_

Draco shoved the note into his pocket, glancing around once more to make sure that no one had noticed his sudden interest in the desk so recently occupied by Granger. Confident that his cover had not been blown, Draco refocused his attention on the task at hand. The situation in the Room of Requirement had not improved at all in weeks, not since his initial breakthrough when he'd discovered the brilliant but simple solution that could save both him and his mother from the Dark Lord's wrath. The problem was, just because the plan itself was simple in theory did not mean its execution would be, and Draco was discovering that very principle with increasing dismay and dread. In fact things had been going so badly he'd been forced to start exploring alternatives, none of which had the finesse or odds of succeeding that his original plan had, but he had to try _something_.

Draco joined the throng of students exiting the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom his mind already drifting to the task ahead of him and away from the idle chatter of his classmates. He could already feel the familiar panic over taking him as he anticipated another evening spent in the Room of Requirement, but his less than pleasant reverie was interrupted by a shrill giggle and a stuttering response in a voice that sounded regrettably familiar.

"I was…I was…"

Draco felt his steps slowing seemingly against his will. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw Granger standing morosely in the middle of the hallway with an expression of complete defeat etched across her face. Draco glanced quickly back at the Weasel and his little girlfriend who Draco had to admit had far more Slytherin flair than he ever would have imagined. The Weasley git's typical confused expression was if anything more pronounced than usual, and his girlfriend's vacant stare revealed that a bit of a malicious streak was the extent of her outstanding mental abilities.

Draco flicked his gaze lazily back to Granger fully expecting to see the same angry glare she had fixed on him so many times recently. Instead he saw Granger shifting from foot to foot, looking around desperately for an escape route. Draco tensed for a moment, worrying that Granger's eyes might fall on him, but luckily she just directed her gaze nervously back at Weasley. Draco scowled as he watched Granger's predicament unfolding before him. The little twit was actually trembling!

"Come on Granger, hex the ruddy git and his girlfriend already!" He thought incredulously, glaring at what he thought must be the most annoying girl on the planet. She screamed at him like she was his equal, she _shoved_ him for Merlin's sake! And now she was standing there like…_that_! As annoying and pathetic as she had always been, that Gryffindor stupidity some called courage had always kept her from acknowledging that fact openly. It was honestly far too pathetic, even for her, to just take what this pair of idiots was dishing out.

"Just look at her face!" A voice suddenly whispered enthusiastically directly into Draco's ear, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. He whipped his head around and was greeted with the face of Pansy Parkinson at quite an intimate distance from his own.

"Parkinson!" He sprang backwards a step or two putting a safer distance between himself and the grinning Slytherin girl before him. He didn't have time for this. He shouldn't have even stopped at all and an entanglement with Pansy would only put him further behind. "I have things to do."

"Don't call me Parkinson!" Pansy's face quickly changed from almost euphoric at Granger's distress to furious at the use of her surname.

Draco merely shrugged and turned to go, hoping that Pansy would simply take the hint and leave him alone. Of course, it wasn't as if he really found that likely.

"Draco!" Pansy whined, trailing after him as he made his way briskly down the hallway and away from the scene Granger was causing. "This is getting old!"

"Getting old!?" He snapped, coming to an abrupt stop so he could glare at Pansy directly. "Oh, it's getting old for _you_ is it?"

"I didn't mean it like that," She amended quickly, brushing her fringe out of her eyes as she stared up at him determinedly. He had to give her credit, after watching Granger's pitiful display it was refreshing to see a girl prove the fact that she had a backbone. But the fact of the matter was he didn't have the time or the desire to deal with her at the moment even if a part of him secretly admired her persistence.

"I know what you meant," He acknowledged grudgingly, forcing his voice to resemble some semblance of the smug, confident tone that used to come as such second nature to him. "And while I can certainly sympathize with your desire to be in my presence at all times, I'm a very busy man. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

He made a mocking little half-bow and then tried to step around Pansy, but she wasn't having any of it.

"I most certainly will not!" She snapped, her arm shooting out to latch onto his and keep him firmly in place. "I will not!" She repeated shrilly, her breath coming in short gasps as though she had just run a marathon not simply been patronized by one of her supposed friends. "You…are…most…certainly…not…EXCUSED!"

Draco returned her steady glare quietly for a few moments, shocked into an unwilling silence by her little outburst. He decided right at that moment that he was swearing off all unnecessary time spent in the presence of girls for a very, very long time. It wasn't enough that he had to accomplish a task that wizards twice his age were too afraid to attempt, but now he had to spend his every waking minute trying to fend off the disrespectful rage of every female at Hogwarts?

"I'm not really asking for your permission, Park…" Catching sight of the murderous look on her face, he stopped mid-word. "Oh for Merlin's sake! Fine! I'm not really asking for your permission, _Pansy_. We've already had this conversation and I don't plan on having it again, so listen carefully! I have important things to do this year that don't involve you. No, I will not tell you what these things are. No, you cannot help me with these things. And no, I do not have time to put in an appearance in the common room for a little chat at the moment, so could you just…"

"If you don't put in an appearance in the common room for a little chat soon," A smooth, unphased male voice interrupted from behind the pair of squabbling Slytherins. "People other than Pansy will start to talk. Or did it not occur to you that your housemates might wonder where you were spending all your time?"

"Blaise," Draco said rather stupidly, silently cursing his friend's timing. Blaise would not be as easily dealt with as Pansy. He had been one of Draco's closest friends for most of their lives, but for two pureblood, Slytherin males, being best friends was a lot like being enemies to everybody else. They cared for each other, sure. But Blaise was one of the few people Draco had to grudgingly acknowledge as his more or less equal and that was not something that came to him easily.

"Ah, so you do remember who I am," Blaise responded, appearing convincingly unconcerned as he folded his arms and examined his fingernails. "And all this time I've been putting your rudeness down to some form of amnesia."

"I've been busy," Draco snapped defensively, annoyed beyond all reasonable levels at the fact that he was being thwarted by his own friends. He glanced around to make sure everyone was still occupied with Granger or their own business and lowered his voice carefully. "You of all people know that I have important things to deal with."

"Actually, you've kept me quite in the dark about your recent activities," Blaise pointed out dryly, meeting Draco's angry gaze with one of faux indifference. "But _you_ of all people should know that Pansy may be pointing out your disappearing act out of a desire to spend more time in your company, but _I _am doing so strictly for your benefit."

Draco eyed his friend carefully, realizing for the first time what Blaise might be getting at.

"You're saying…"

"Yes."

"And you think they already suspect?"

"Exactly."

"Damn Slytherins!"

"Quite."

"I hate when you two do that!" Pansy interrupted finally, glancing angrily between the two Slytherin boys before her. "Will someone tell me what you guys are talking about?"

"Our house is not known for its ambition for nothing, Pansy," Blaise offered softly, facing the girl again after his shorthand exchange with his best friend. "Draco was not exactly prudent to expose as much as he did on the Hogwarts Express, I'm sure at least Crabbe and Goyle have let something slip. And now with his lack of presence it won't be long before our housemates start to put two and two together."

"So?" Pansy asked, and Draco knew she was probably hating the fact that she constantly felt about a step and a half behind her friends. It wasn't that she was stupid, it was just that it sometimes took her a moment or two to work things out. She was ruled by her passionate impulses and she was far more likely to act without thinking and figure things out later than to examine a situation thoroughly to begin with. "Even if they do suspect something no one in our house is going to try to stop him! They'd probably just want to help."

"Help themselves, more likely," Draco interjected softly, the gears in his head working a mile a minute as he considered the wisdom behind Blaise's words. "Like Blaise said, Slytherins are nothing if not ambitious. If they suspect I've been given…if I have a task to do. They might think they could gain some kind of reward for completing it themselves."

"But they won't really know anything!" Pansy argued, hands on her hips as she struggled not to be overlooked in yet another conversation. "You said it yourself Crabbe and Goyle don't know much, _Blaise and I_ don't even know much for Merlin's sake! Unless you get stupid and let something major slip, how could anyone possibly know enough to interfere?"

"They won't," Draco started, glancing at Blaise who finished his friend's thought almost without thought.

"But the last thing Draco needs is a bunch of people hanging around trying to find out."

"Fine," Draco sighed, the exhaustion that had become his constant companion rushing up on him yet again. "You've made your point. But the fact remains that I can't exactly walk away from this."

No one said anything for a moment, Draco and Blaise just stared each other down stubbornly, neither willing to be the first to admit that their friend had a point.

"So," Pansy offered finally, in that same small, hopeful voice that Draco recognized from their last similar conversation. "Does that mean you're coming with us to the common room?"

Draco broke his gaze away from Blaise's and couldn't help but offer Pansy the smallest of smiles. She really was something that, Parkinson. She was a Slytherin through and through, but she had this strange innocence about her. More like a spoiled, attention starved child than a jr. Death Eater and that was more refreshing than Draco would care to admit.

Removing the smile from his face as quickly as it had come, Draco made a small, exasperated noise before striding past his friends and calling over his shoulder,

"Of course we're going to the common room, where else would be going? Come along you two, you wouldn't want people to start to talk about you, now would you?"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

AN: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I know it's been quite a while since I posted the last chapter, but it was the dreaded time of college finals and trust me, I would much rather have been writing this! Anyway, I'm home for one week of spring break and I plan to write at least another chapter before I go back to school. Enjoy, and please review. It means a lot to me and helps motivate me to write another chapter so much sooner than I can be trusted to do on my own! Ok, here we go…

_There, there, baby_

_It's just textbook stuff_

_It's in the A B C's_

_Of growing up_

_Now, now, darling  
Oh, don't lose your head_

_Cause none of us were angels_

_And you know I love you yet_

_- "Speeding Cars", Imogen Heap_

Chapter 12:

Hermione waited two days for Ron to apologize.

She made sure to give him plenty of opportunities to do so, steering clear of him when he and Lavender were together, but making herself available every moment that he managed to relieve himself of his girlfriend.

She didn't mention the awkward moment in the hallway and she certainly didn't bring up the incident in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Instead she simply went about her life as if nothing had happened, offering Ron help with his homework, cheering for him at the quidditch match against Hufflepuff, and passing him the pudding at dinner.

She did all of this without so much as a harsh word or an angry glance in the hopes that Ron would take it upon himself to apologize for whatever role he had played in his girlfriend's cruel note and then things could begin to be normal between them again.

But if Ron had any intention of apologizing or in fact acknowledging the event at all, he certainly wasn't showing it. If anything he seemed to be relieved and yet awkward around her, smiling nervously at her occasionally, but only if Lavender was well out of sight. As for Lavender, she seemed to be acting patronizingly sweet to Hermione in front of Ron and ignoring her completely in the dormitory at night. Harry observed all of this with increasing anxiety and resentment at the situation he so desperately wanted to stay out of, but Hermione had to admit that to his credit, he had kept his word by offering her a sympathetic ear and promising to give Ron a talking to if she wanted. Hermione turned him down on both counts, assuring him that she was appreciative but also more than capable of handling things herself.

The problem with her outward decorum was that only a thin layer of calm separated her true feelings from her public persona. Each hour that went by without an apology from Ron left Hermione more and more infuriated until finally, just the sight of him made her want to fly into a violent rage.

Remembering that quite recently she had used conjured birds to attack Ron, and that she had shoved Draco in the library only a week ago, Hermione gritted her teeth in staunch determination not to act on her violent impulse, but she couldn't really be sure that the logical part of her brain would win in this particular situation.

"Honestly!" She raged silently to herself one evening as she sat near the fire with Harry going over some particularly troubling homework that she wasn't able to focus on at all due to a certain couple snogging each other senseless five feet away. "How much can I really be expected to put up with? Those things she wrote…she may be his girlfriend, but I've been his friend…one of his_ best_ friends…since we were 11! Shouldn't that count for something? Doesn't he owe me a little loyalty? And that's not even taking into account…that's not even beginning to mention…I thought we…"

"Hermione?" Harry was waving his hand slowly back and forth in front of her face and she wasn't sure at all how long he had been doing so without her noticing. "Hermione? Are you ok?"

"Fine, Harry," She assured her friend, knowing that her smile was a little too big and a little too quickly given to truly cover up the mental debate she had been having. "Just a little distracted is all. So where were we? Ah yes, the great Dragon eradication of the 17th century…"

And so it went with Hermione barely reining in her anger and Ron completely oblivious to the danger he was in of having his head forcibly removed from his body.

But after two days of silently seething and holding out hope that Ron would come forward of his own free will Hermione was beginning to find keeping quiet nearly impossible. That evening she was once again seated in the common room with Harry, though this time Ron was at least making a pretense of attempting his homework bringing he and Lavender to the table they occupied.

Hermione glanced up as casually as she could manage over the edge of her essay to observe the scene before her. Ron was hunched over a Potions book while Lavender hung off the back of his chair as if she was wholly incapable of contemplating the loss of contact that would occur should she choose to pull out a chair of her own.

Hermione could feel herself scowling and tried to bring her expression back in check. She glanced at Harry to see if he had noticed the spectacle before them, and saw that he was very determinedly _not_ noticing by staring unblinkingly down at the parchment in front of him.

Hermione tried very hard to think of all the reasons why she should let the whole thing go and not cause a fuss over the situation.

After the "lucky" quidditch match fiasco she and Ron hadn't been speaking at all. Did she really want to go back to that nearly unbearable two-way silent treatment?

Ron hadn't actually done anything himself as far as she was aware. All she knew was what Lavender had implied and what Harry had inferred. Could she really hold Ron responsible for what his silly, little girlfriend had done?

Starting a fight would be pointless and time consuming when she already had for more pressing matters to consider such as the war they all knew was coming, homework that kept piling up, and that infernal broom proficiency exam that she'd all but forgotten about amidst all of this. Did she really want to pursue a confrontation with Ron and Lavender given all of that?

"Yes," Hermione muttered bitterly to herself trying to ignore the nagging voice that told her she was being vain and holding grudges, and anyway she shouldn't try to chase away the few friends who could stand to be in her company.

"What?" Harry had looked up from his parchment, though he still kept his gaze fixed firmly on Hermione and refusing to so much as glance at the other end of the table where Lavender was twirling Ron's hair around her finger like it was likely to turn into spun gold at any moment.

"Oh nothing," Hermione answered on reflex, transfixed by the boldness Lavender was displaying.

Hermione could feel the anger bubbling in her, an uncontrollable force that made every inch of her body feel warm and tingly in a highly unpleasant manner. So far Draco Malfoy was the only one who had been able to illicit such feelings of near hate in Hermione and she fought it down for a few seconds before realizing it was a lost cause and she had better say something to someone before she exploded.

"Actually, Harry," She began loudly in a clipped and fiercely cheerful tone that was so obviously false it got the attention of everyone at the table. "I was just wondering if you had finished your essay on Hubert Gothanton yet."

"Well, no, I haven't," Harry responded, gesturing at his parchment, which quite visibly had only about a paragraph scrawled on its surface.

It was clear that Hermione had seen this for herself and yet she continued, a telling strained smile stretched across her face.

"I just find his life so interesting," She remarked brightly, "I knew he was famous for inventing several seminal potions, but I had no idea that he stole so much of his research from one of his old schoolmates, did you?"

"No, I…" Harry started only to be cut off by Hermione' s continued cheery ranting.

"I mean can you imagine? They were at school together," Hermione shook her head to emphasize the pure deviousness that she was describing. "And for Gothanton to get the research they must have spent a lot of time together. Why, I'd bet anything they were _best_ friends, don't you think?"

"Well, I suppose it's…" Harry tried only to be cut off once again.

"And don't you think, Harry, that there are few things more despicable in the entire world, than to betray one of your best friends?"

"Well, of course…it's uh…not…good." Harry offered the look on his face revealing that he was desperately trying to catch up with Hermione's barrage of questions and figure out exactly where she was leading him.

"No, you're right, Harry, I agree completely, not good at all." Hermione spared a glance at Ron and saw that he and Lavender were entirely enthralled with Hermione's speech. Hermione forced herself to focus her attention back on Harry before she continued. "Gothanton's friend probably spent all her, or his as the case may be, time trying to be a good friend to Gothanton, helping him with his homework and sharing things with him because she, or he I suppose, trusted in their friendship completely."

"Well…" Harry trailed off and Hermione was certain that understanding was crashing upon him rather unpleasantly.

"And then Gothanton probably made friends with someone else," Hermione was losing control of her tone and heard with regret that her voice had become a bit shrill, and yet she seemed unable to stop herself. "Gotanton probably got _really_ cozy with this _new_ friend and didn't have time for his old friend anymore, and probably couldn't even be bothered to defend his old friend when his _new_ friend said really terrible things about his old friend…"

"Uh…well…Hermione, maybe we should take a break," Harry interjected, finally glancing at Ron whose jaw had dropped nearly to the table and Lavender who seemed as though she was at least several steps behind the rest of them and merely looked confused.

"I don't need a _break_, Harry, thank you very much," She pushed her chair back so hard that it fell over as she stood up and faced Ron and Lavender. "What I need is for my friends to be my friends all the time, not just when it's convenient."

"Wait," Ron finally interjected cautiously, his face growing red. "Are you talking about me?"

"Yes, _Ronald_," Hermione stretched out his name for a full three seconds her voice dripping with thinly veiled anger. "I am in fact talking about you." 

"But…" Ron stared at her as though she had grown a second head. "I haven't done anything…" 

"Exactly, Ron," Hermione agreed bitterly, "You haven't done anything! You haven't stopped your girlfriend from sending me horrible, hurtful notes. You haven't even apologized for letting her do it!"

"For letting her…" Ron started, his face screwed up in pure confusion. "What are you…"

"What do you mean his girlfriend?" Lavender shrieked suddenly, realizing belatedly that she had been brought into the conversation. "Are you talking about me?"

"No, Lavender, I'm talking about his other girlfriend," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I…you…I didn't send you any notes!" Lavender protested, her voice slipping into a whine.

"Yes, you did," Hermione snapped, hating herself for the display she was making but finding it impossible to stop now that she had begun. "You sent it in Defense Against the Dark Arts and you said terrible, petty things and as good as admitted Ron was in on the joke. Then you laughed when you saw me reading it!"

"I didn't send you any notes, stop saying that!" Lavender demanded loudly enough to draw the gaze of the few Gryffindors who had thus far managed not to stare at the scene unfolding before them. "I laughed because you had such a funny look on your face while you went over your essay, I didn't…" 

"It wasn't my essay, it was a note!" Hermione argued, ignoring the fact that Harry had clamped a hand down on her arm.

"Well, I didn't know that did I!?" Lavender protested shrilly, "It's not fair to hold things I don't know against me!"

"Good thing too," Hermione spat viciously, all restraint lost in the heat of the moment. "Otherwise you'd be facing a lifetime of grudges considering all the things you don't know!"

"Oi!" Ron stood, confusion replaced with anger. "That's out of order Hermione!"

"Come on, Hermione, let's go," Harry pleaded, tugging gently on her arm.

"No, let her speak," Ron insisted angrily, "I don't reckon she should get to accuse Lavender and I and then just walk away without explaining herself."

"Oh now you want to listen to her?" Harry snapped softly, meeting his friend's glare. "I don't want the two of you fighting again, and I really don't want to start fighting with you, Ron. But you and Lavender have been rude to Hermione for weeks and if you had just had the guts to apologize she probably wouldn't have lost it just now…"

"I haven't lost it!" Hermione exclaimed.

At the same moment, Lavender shrieked, "Apologize for what?"

"Hermione," Ron all but whispered, an imploring look stretched painfully across his face. "I know things have been…weird. I don't want you to be uncomfortable around me, but…you can't just accuse people of things…"

"Not even when your accusations are true?" Hermione whispered back, her eyes filling with tears against her will. "Not even when someone sends you a note that breaks your heart?"

"I don't know anything about a note, Hermione." Ron answered sadly, but firmly. "Lavender says she doesn't either, and I…I believe her. I think you owe her an apology, Hermione…"

Hermione let a short, bitter chuckle escape before turning to Lavender. "Well, it seems like we'll both be waiting forever for apologies we believe we deserve."

Then she yanked her arm free of Harry's grip, and walked as quickly as she possibly could out of the common room, wondering if her little explosion could possibly be worth it, and when exactly she became as jealous and vindictive as a Slytherin.


	13. Chapter 13

_Venus was a fly trap_

_The man you loved devoured..._

_But I was never cool_

_You thought I was a cowboy_

_I wonder where my gun is _

_Can you spare a bullet senorita_

_I will always be the worst..._

_I used to dream about the future_

_I used to dream about a lot of things_

_But I was never cool_

_So you can call me a loser _

_Yeah you can call me anything _

_You want to senorita_

_I will always be the worst_

_- "Generation X-Wing" The Matthew Good Band_

Chapter 13:

Draco waited two days before he risked going back to the Room of Requirement.

He had given in to Blaise's advice and Pansy's pleading and spent his evenings in the common room. He'd stopped skipping meals, made an effort to stay awake in classes, and even tried to half-heartedly bully some first years, just to keep up appearances.

It was incredible how difficult it was to simply act like _him_. He knew that in reality it had only been a year since all of this came naturally, but it might as well have been a lifetime ago for Draco. He couldn't be more detached from that person, more distant from that time in his life.

As far as he was concerned he had died over the summer.

Dead and gone was Draco Malfoy the self-assured teenager who's biggest problem was a distant father. That guy had been shoved to his knees, his face buried in the dirt; his arm cut open and branded, all in service of a leader more monster than man, who would not hesitate to send Draco to his death without a second thought. Sometimes he believed he had volunteered for his membership, sometimes he was certain he had been forced. It was all very much the same when you were in the Dark Lord's presence. All Draco could be sure about was that before that moment he'd wanted nothing more than to be important and after that moment he'd wanted nothing more than to have everyone forget he existed.

And why shouldn't they forget he existed? He would have sworn the Draco Malfoy they knew had died.

Left in his place was a new Draco Malfoy, a bundle of nerves and false bravado, trying desperately to pull off a task that was obviously beyond him, an effort that would undoubtedly lead not only to his death, but the death of all those he cared for.

All things considered, he missed the snotty, spoiled jerk he used to be.

"Well, well, look who's back," Alex Hartley had practically crowed when Draco entered the common room that first evening with Blaise and Pansy. "I was beginning to think you'd joined another house."

Draco decided that dignifying that comment with a response would only further encourage Hartley in the mistaken belief that he was on a level that allowed challenging him. He was a bit surprised at Hartley's boldness actually. Alex was only a fifth year and he generally seemed to worship the ground Draco walked on, laughing at his jokes, taking his orders, basically acting like a good, little Slytherin drone.

Draco plastered an aloof and indifferent look on his face before taking a seat near the fire trying to squelch the nagging feeling he had that perhaps Alex had only been waiting for an opening to break free of his leadership, an opportunity that Draco might have provided by disappearing so much lately.

Alex seemed irritated by Draco's lack of response. He dropped into a chair near Draco, and ignored the obvious fact that Draco was not eager for his company.

"You've missed two quidditch practices," Alex commented, watching Draco's face carefully for a sign of unease. "That's not going to help us beat Gryffindor."

"I'm honored that you think I'm the key to our victory," Draco answered dryly, attempting to fight down the urge to wipe that smug expression off of his housemate's face. "What was your contribution to the team again? Oh yes, warming the stands for us, very important."

Alex's smug smile slid off his face as he slowly turned an unattractive shade of red that bordered on purple.

"I can fly circles around half the people on the team," Alex snapped, drawing the attention of several Slytherins nearby and leaving the room eerily quiet as everyone waited to see the fight play out.

"Which half would that be?" Draco inquired calmly, "The half that out flew you at try-outs? Oh, that would be everyone wouldn't it?"

"Listen Malfoy," Alex practically growled, "You can insult me all you want, but it's not going to make anyone forget that you've been missing practice. You ought to be kicked off for that…"

"Since you're not in fact a member of the team, one might wonder why you've been keeping such close tabs on the practices," Blaise spoke up in his signature bored tone, prompting Draco to throw him a brief but grateful look.

"Exactly what I was thinking, Blaise," Pansy added quickly, " I mean, I know why _I_, enjoy watching the practices, and honestly, Alex, if it's the same for you that's perfectly fine, I won't judge or anything…"

At this point she offered Alex a practiced smile that appeared sympathetic but didn't quite hide the malicious glint behind her eyes.

"But really Alex," She continued conspiratorially, "If you like looking at the boys in those yummy quidditch uniforms you really should just say so, it's nothing to be ashamed of…"

Alex leapt to his feet and made a quick movement as if he were about to lunge for his wand, and in an instant both Draco and Blaise were standing between him and Pansy, drawn up their full heights and glaring with the combined menace of two formidable Slytherins.

"Now what would it do to your gentlemanly reputation to attack a lady?" Blaise murmured, his tone indifferent as ever on the surface but Draco knew him well enough to detect the threat beneath the words.

"I don't see a lady," Alex muttered, but he did take his hand away from his wand and back up a fraction resentfully.

"That's funny, counting you I see two," Draco snarled, all of his frustration and exhaustion coming to bear on this annoying little prat who threatened Draco's friends and poked his nose where it didn't belong. "And while you obviously don't have Pansy's good breeding, I'm still going to expect you to apologize."

"No way in hell am I going to…" Alex trailed off as Draco and Blaise took a large step toward him as one.

He scowled up at the slightly larger boys for almost a full minute before he turned to Pansy.

"Sorry," He muttered before turning to leave, quickly flanked on both sides by a couple of Slytherin fourth years, reminding Draco uneasily of his own control over Crabbe and Goyle.

"Oh, I mean, sorry _my lady_," Alex called back over his shoulder, his tone cold. "This isn't over, Malfoy. You're up to something and you've obviously decided you're too good to fill your house in these days. If you're not with us, you're against us."

The three Slytherins' departure was followed by the slamming of the door and an echoing silence until Draco shouted, "Don't you people have some studying to do?" and everyone made a big show of turning away, not quite as eager as Alex Hartley to expose themselves to Draco's wrath.

At least not yet anyway, but Draco had a sinking feeling that some of them had probably agreed with Hartley's assessment of his recent absences.

And so it went for two days, with Draco fighting the urge to panic or bite the head off of anyone stupid enough to speak to him.

Finally, Draco decided he'd put it off for as long as he possibly could. It was a Saturday evening and he'd spent the day with Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle jeering at both teams during the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff quidditch match. The whole time he'd noticed with an irritable nervousness the fact that Alex Hartley was also there with several other Slytherins clustered around him.

Who did this kid think he was? Any other year Draco would have put him in his place easily, but then again, if this were any other year he'd have been around enough to prevent Hartley from getting so uppity in the first place.

Now the match was long over and Draco had decided this was as a good a moment as any to slip off and work on what he knew he had to do. Unfortunately for him, Pansy had other ideas.

"Draco, can I talk to you for a minute?" Pansy asked quietly, offering him a hesitant smile.

Draco fought the urge to scowl. He'd been three seconds away from getting up and leaving the common room, _this _close to making a clean get away, and now Pansy had to have a little heart to heart? Unbelievable.

"What is it?" He asked tersely, playing with the end of his sleeve to avoid looking her in the eyes.

"Well," He glanced up in time to see Pansy scanning the room to make sure that no one was obviously eavesdropping, a frequent issue in the Slytherin dungeon. Everyone seemed to be momentarily occupied, including Blaise, who was across the room playing chess with Nott. "I just wanted to thank you…for…you know…saving me."

Draco's head snapped up in surpise. She had certainly managed to capture his attention.

"I wasn't aware I had saved anyone," Draco answered, racking his brain for what she could be talking about. He couldn't remember Pansy's life being in peril. In fact the only life he remembered saving lately, or ever if he was being perfectly honest, was…Granger's. Shuddering slightly at that particular memory, Draco turned his attention back to Pansy, who looked vaguely embarrassed but determined.

"From Alex," She explained, "You saved me from Alex."

"Oh," Draco replied stiffly, somewhat at a loss. "That. Blaise helped. And I hardly think it qualifies as saving you in any case…"

"Saving my honor at least," Pansy smiled at him and it made Draco's stomach turn slightly.

Why was she always looking at him like that? Like he was her hero or something? He wasn't anyone's hero. He didn't even want to be, and Pansy was incredibly dense if she thought Draco was that type of guy.

"Yeah, well, don't mention it," He said, growing increasingly uncomfortable under Pansy's fond gaze. "Really, Parkinson, don't mention it to me or anyone else. You'll ruin my reputation."

Pansy giggled, and that's when Draco knew he was really in trouble. If she was feeling so fond of him at the moment that she didn't even mind being called by her last name than she was probably about to start declaring her love for him and he'd never get out of there.

"Draco, it's good to have you back," Pansy told him, placing her hand over his, which had been resting on the arm of his chair.

Draco stared at her offending appendage for a few seconds before shaking it off and replying tensely.

"Well, how tragic," Draco replied, eying the door to the common room. Only a dozen or so steps and he'd be out… "Because I was just about to say I had to leave."

"Draco, I…" Pansy sputtered, a startled expression on her face.

"I have to go," Draco stood, trying to ignore the wounded puppy expression that stretched itself across Pansy's face.

"But…" Pansy placed a tentative hand on Draco's arm.

"I don't have time for this, Parkinson!" Draco snapped suddenly, shaking off Pansy's grip.

He knew he had just drawn the eyes of nearly everyone in the room including Blaise, but he couldn't very well take it back now. Trying not to let any semblance of guilt flood his system Draco made a hasty exit.

The Room of Requirement was exactly as he'd left it, all the piles of junk stacked neatly and organized into a system understood only by him. It was what he did in between bouts of battling the object he was attempting to fix…organize. It wasn't something he'd ever admit to anyone, but it gave him a small sense of calm to be able to control the neatness of any environment he found himself in. When he was a kid he'd thrown horrible tempter tantrums than followed them up by cleaning his room for hours at a time. No, he would definitely not be admitting _that _to anyone anytime soon.

There was no time for cleaning at the moment however. Draco turned his attention to his task and nearly three hours went by before the lack of progress became to much for him to bear.

"Nothing's happening!" He shouted, knowing no one could hear him but wanting to tear his hair out at the lack of progress he was making. "It's impossible! For the love of Merlin, it's impossible!"

He began to pace around the object, faster and faster until he became so dizzy he could hardly see straight. It was a relief in a way, not being able to see. If his vision became blurry enough, maybe he could pretend he wasn't here, that none of this was real.

"Arrrrgghh!" He screamed, the frustration finally becoming too much.

He reached for the first thing he could get his hands on, which just so happened to be a wooden chair that had probably belonged to a very nice dining room set in a previous life, and hurled it as hard as he possibly could across the room.

A satisfying crash seemed to echo even more in Draco's ears given the fact that he could still barely see. That wasn't what caught his attention though. What caught his attention was that the crash was followed by a loud gasp.

"Who's there!?" Draco growled, willing his eyes to focus.

"I…I…didn't know anyone was in here," A small, choked sounding voice answered from the general direction he'd hurled the chair.

"No," Draco thought miserably. "Even my life can't be that cruel, it can't be…"

Finally his vision cleared, and all of Draco's worst suspicions were confirmed.

"Granger," He breathed, fury seeping out of every pore of his body. "How did you get in here?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Ok, here's the next chapter. I've been really looking forward to this point in the story because this is where things are going to start to pick up. Although, if you're expecting Draco and Hermione to suddenly be in love with each other than you haven't been reading the first 13 chapters carefully enough :p, but I promise things are in motion now. What kind of things? Well, you'll just have to read and HINT, HINT review to find out. Enjoy and please review if you have a second. It really makes a huge difference to how soon I will update not because I'm demanding reviews, but it's just the honest truth that it multiplies the motivation by 10.**

_Sometimes I fear that I might disappear  
In the blur of fast forward I falter again  
Forgetting to breathe  
I need to sleep  
I'm getting nowhere_

All that I've missed I see in the reflection  
Pass me while I wasn't paying attention  
Tired of rushing, racing and running  
I'm falling apart

-_"Slow Down" by Emmy Rossum _

Hermione fled Gryffindor tower at full speed, grateful only that she had managed to grab her bag on the way out and made it out of the common room before the tears prickling her eyes broke free. Of course, her control only lasted a few seconds, and then Hermione's vision became so blurred that she was forced to lean against the wall for a moment and wipe her eyes fiercely.

"Get a grip, Hermione!" She ordered herself in a harsh whisper, thankful that the hall seemed to empty at the moment.

She hated feeling so weak and affected by everything that was going on. Hermione felt as though she was slowly but surely losing herself amidst the tears and breakdowns she'd been having lately. There was a war coming and all she wanted was to keep her sanctuary of friends and studies within Hogwarts' walls intact, but that had proved to be beyond impossible.

All of the sudden, Hermione's lungs seemed to constrict and a painful pressure settled over her chest. She gave a shallow, frightened gasp and leaned more heavily against the wall, pressing her forehead against the cool stone in an attempt to calm herself. She knew enough about muggle descriptions of anxiety to know that she was having an attack of panic rather than one of the heart, but that did little to calm the fear and despair that threatened to completely overwhelm her.

Knowing that it was only a matter of time before someone stumbled upon her, Hermione pushed herself away from the wall weakly and stumbled down the hall towards the only place she knew that she could be truly alone.

It took Hermione almost fifteen minutes to reach the Room of Requirement due in part to a desire for secrecy that forced her to take a roundabout route and also the physical trauma her body seemed to be inflicting on itself. Attempting desperately to retain some sort of control over herself, Hermione forced herself to recite her to do list in her head, a habit that she'd picked up way back in first year when she'd been disliked and friendless, a situation that seemed to be more and more likely of repeating itself.

"Finish reading for History of Magic, write home, re-organize my notes, get Malfoy's essay to him somehow…"

Her already wrecked body gave a little shudder at the last item on her list. Yes, she had written a Defense Against the Dark Arts essay with the explicit intention of giving it to Draco Malfoy to pass off as his own work. It wasn't something she was proud of, and she had to question what little sanity she had left that she endeavored to do it at all. But the fact of the matter was, Malfoy had made a little sense that night he'd found her asleep outside of the Room of Requirement. He _had_ given her two broom lessons, and as disastrous as they might have turned out, the fact remained that he had kept his end of the bargain and she had not. She still owed him another study session but as the thought of that made her want to run swiftly in the other direction she'd decided to compromise her integrity one more time in the interest of putting the whole thing behind her.

Hermione breathed a sight of relief that came out more like a strangled sob when she finally rounded the corner and spotted the familiar stretch of hallway that she knew held the Room of Requirement. She was already trying to imagine the perfect room where she could be alone and comfortable and just pretend that Ron and Lavender did not exist. Pacing quickly in front of the seemingly blank wall, Hermione tried to concentrate through the mental fog that currently enveloped her brain. She was actually feeling quite lightheaded and wondered briefly if this panic attack could actually be cutting off the necessary flow of air to her brain, before the door appeared and without another thought Hermione gratefully slipped through it.

She had only a split second to wonder at the odd surroundings the room had apparently conjured for her, taking in a brief glance of tall stacks of seemingly random objects, before a large blur launched itself at her in a seeming attack.

Hermione meant to scream as the blur flew forcefully toward her, but the shock combined with her current lack of oxygen only allowed her to emit a brief gasp before the object connected with the wall just over her right shoulder.

Hermione's wide eyes examined the remnants of what looked to have been a chair for another split second before a voice brought her focus back to more immediate concerns.

"Who's there!?" A voice growled, a voice far too familiar and yet unwelcome for Hermione to force herself to calm down at all.

Draco Malfoy was in the Room of Requirement…and so was she.

"I…I…didn't know anyone was in here," Hermione managed to choke out in a stupor, edging subconsciously toward the wall behind her where she knew the door must be. It just seemed so much safer to have an escape route.

Hermione waited a beat for him to say something, but he didn't seem to have any firmer of a grasp on the situation than she did.

"Of course, I didn't know anyone was in here," Hermione thought hysterically, vaguely aware that shock hadn't fully stopped the tears or strange gulping breathes she was currently suffering from. "Of course, I didn't know because it doesn't work that way! I can't be here! It doesn't make any sense! The Room shouldn't have let me in!"

"Granger," He breathed, in an oddly terrifying whisper, apparently recovering some of his speaking ability. "How did you get in here?"

She opened her mouth to speak but all that she could force to escape her lips was a pathetic squeak she was sure was less than intimidating. Suddenly the small amount of air she'd been marginally successful in forcing down her lungs was abandoning her. She was going to drown on dry land in front of the one student at Hogwarts who wouldn't raise a finger to save her. She wondered if Ron would have the decency not to bring Lavender to her funeral…

"Well, Granger?" Malfoy prompted, his hand gripping his wand so hard that she could see his white knuckles from across the room. "I let you talk your way out of it the other night, but now it seems that you _are _spying. I'm going to ask this one more time…"

He didn't get a chance to ask again though because at that moment Hermione's legs gave out and she sunk to the floor in a heap, a raspy sound escaping her throat as she hit the cold stones of the Room's floor.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he did relax the grip on his wand slightly and lean forward a fraction.

"What's wrong with you, Granger?" He inquired as if he believed her to be attempting to trick him somehow. "Get up!"

She shook her head weakly, knowing that wasn't an option as much as she'd like it to be. She let out another muted gasping sound, and desperately racked her brain for some sort of non-verbal spell that she might be capable of pulling off if she needed to defend herself.

Malfoy took a cautious step forward, his expression torn between curiosity, disdain, and suspicion. He took another few steps before pausing again, almost as if to determine if she was suddenly going to spring up and attack him. When that didn't happen, he approached her, hand still tightly gripping his wand.

Hermione flinched without meaning to as she realized he was standing directly in front of her. The last thing she wanted at the moment was to appear vulnerable in front of Malfoy of all people, but she simply couldn't force her body to calm down.

There was a long moment of silence, and Hermione steeled herself as best she could and glanced up at the suddenly towering figure of Draco Malfoy. The expression on his face was not the fury she had been expecting; however, instead it was more confused and uncomfortable, if still disdainful, than anything else. For a few seconds she simply met his stare, the only sound in the room the echoing of her rasping breaths.

"Stop crying," He ordered finally, his tone sounding strangely stressed to Hermione's ears, as though her crying was somehow at least as uncomfortable as it was infuriating to him.

Hermione didn't know what to make of his command, but since it was something she desired as well, she reached a trembling hand up to her face and attempted to wipe away the tears that stained her cheeks. She kept her eyes on Malfoy's face as she did this, not trusting for one moment that he wouldn't decide to hex her first and ask more questions later, but he only frowned deeply, glancing away for the briefest moment and then back again.

"Just get out," He finally ordered, his voice stiff and clipped. "I'm not going to hurt you,_ just get out_."

Hermione felt herself relax slightly at his words, even as the confusion pooled more deeply in her mind. So he wasn't going to attack her, at least not right away. But what was going on, honestly, nothing made sense anymore. It was hardly relevant as she didn't wish to press her luck at the moment, Hermione decided, attempting pull herself up to a kneeling position. The effort brought out another throaty gasp from her and Malfoy frowned even deeper.

"Can you breathe at all? I _told _you I'm not going to hurt you…just leave!" His voice was whiney, and Hermione pictured him ending his demands by stomping his foot to complete the tantrum.

"I'm…trying," Hermione managed to get out, her air passages slowly relaxing slightly. "And…it's…not…because…of…you." She added for good measure, taking some small pride in the confusion that washed over his face. "I'm…not…scared of you." She spat out on an exhale, not wanting to him to think he had scared her as badly as he really had. Anyway, it wasn't his presence that had started all of this and for some reason, probably lack of oxygen, she was being honest about that.

"Just leave," He half growled, and Hermione was surprised at the return of his earlier fury. It was almost as though he'd briefly felt badly when he believed he'd set off her attack…or he was just realizing that if she had enough air to speak she had enough air to defend herself. Either way, Hermione was not eager to stick around and find out.

And so she was backing towards the door in order to keep Malfoy safely within her line of sight when she observed his face draining of the little color it ever had.

"Malfoy…" She choked out, his name a question, as she gripped her own wand tightly.

"The door," He muttered darkly, "It's gone. What did you do, you…"

He began to rattle off a string of devastating and creative insults but Hermione didn't hear a single one. She had wheeled to face the wall behind her with a devastating sense of dread washing over her only to observe unyielding stone where the door should have been.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: I'm baaaaaack! I know it's been forever and anyone still reading this was probably convinced that I'd abandoned the story, but I promise that isn't the case. I just had a crazy end of the quarter in college, moved home, started summer classes and started back at the job I actually get paid for. So needless to say it's been a crazy time, but I am glad to be back and should be able to update fairly regularly now, so yay! Please hit me with some reviews for this chapter to let me know you guys are still reading this and that I should continue!**

**Also...I just realized that I screwed up. I've been switching back and forth between Hermione's and Draco's perspectives, and it's been so long since I updated I forgot it was Draco's turn. So Chapter 14 and Chapter 15 are both from Hermione's perspective. Crap. Maybe I'll make the next two, or some two in the future from Draco's perspective. No big deal really, I just hate to ruin the pattern.**

Chapter 15:

_You always talk too much_

_Too little_

_Too late_

_Too much_

_Too little _

_Too late_

_For me to figure out_

"_Get Well Soon"-Reggie and the Full Effect_

"What did you _do_!?" Draco's voice was both frantic and furious but Hermione hardly registered it at all.

Instead she was busy staring disbelievingly at the unbroken surface before her. The door had been _right_ there. She _knew_ it had been right there. Just like she _knew_ the Room of Requirement didn't just suddenly lock someone in. Just like she _knew_ the Room didn't let two people with opposing needs in at the same time. Just like she _knew _that she had regained control of her body only to lose control of everything else.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself to believe that everything would make sense again when she opened them.

"_One…_" She began, counting silently.

"What are you doing!?"

"_Two…"_

"Granger!"

"_Three…_"

"Are you having another pathetic episode?"

"_Four…_"

"Answer me, Granger!"

"_Five…_"

"I don't know what you did…"

"_Six…_"

"…but you'd better fix it right this second…"

"_Seven…_"

"…before I make you regret the day your miserable muggle parents decided to procreate!"

"_Eight…_"

"Granger?"

"_Nine…_"

"Snap out of it you pathetic, disgusting, repulsive, filthy mudblood!"

"Shut it, Malfoy!" Hermione snapped losing her brief serenity, her eyes opening quickly only to be met by the very startled grey ones belonging to one Draco Malfoy.

Both of them jumped back quickly.

Hermione had not been expecting Draco to be that close, peering puzzledly into her face, and it was obvious that Draco had not been expecting to be caught that close to the girl he was currently insulting.

"What were you doing?" Hermione demanded, maintaining a few feet of separation between them.

"What were _you_ doing?" Draco shot back, his face reddening for the briefest of moments, though Hermione would have been hard pressed to determine if it was from embarrassment or irritation.

"Thinking," Hermione quipped, sidestepping Draco entirely and approaching the now blank wall that had caused all of the trouble. "Ever considered trying it?"

"Hilarious, Granger," Draco practically growled, his eyes following her to the offending barrier. "Now undo whatever you did and I might only _almost_ kill you."

"Why do you assume it was something _I_ did?" Hermione snapped, tracing her hands methodically over the wall feeling for weak points that might give way. "You know very well that I was very nearly incapacitated at the time of the incident and furthermore, was far too concerned about making sure you weren't going to hex me to even contemplate the moronic idea of locking myself into a room with my least favorite Slytherin!"

Draco was silent for a moment, and Hermione could only guess that he was processing her lengthy tirade.

Finally he snickered a bit and despite Hermione's determination to ignore him she couldn't help but demand, "What exactly do you find so humorous?"

"Does that mean you have a _favorite_ Slytherin?" Draco almost doubled over with laughter and Hermione felt as though there was probably smoke billowing out of her ears by this point.

He had an infuriating talent for doing whatever would annoy her most at that particular moment from insulting her to having a laugh at her expense, and this was no exception.

"Unlike some people," Hermione fumed, patting the stones of the wall with a little more force than was strictly necessary. "I don't feel the need to stereotype an entire group of people based on stupid assumptions. I'm sure there are plenty of Slytherins with some very fine qualities, it's just that none of them happen to be you."

"Well, for someone that claims to hate me so much, you sure have been spending a lot of time around me lately," Draco retorted smugly, causing Hermione to positively slap the next stone she examined.

"Owww!" Hermione couldn't help but squeal, shaking her hand experimentally, thinking that it would be just her luck to end up trapped in here with Draco Malfoy _and_ a broken wrist.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Granger, better witches than you have fallen victim to the Malfoy charm," He continued clearly allowing his glee at tormenting her overtake his panic and anger at being trapped.

"If by _better_ witches you mean the blind, desperate, or sort that only care about how many galleons you have in your vault at Gringott's then I'm sure you're right," Hermione shot back, turning to face him for a moment against her better judgment.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you it's incredibly rude to insult your superiors?" Draco retorted, his annoyance rising to the surface again. "Anyway, are you making any progress over there or what? You're the one who got us locked in here and you'd better be able to get us out!"

"For the last time, it wasn't me!" Hermione seethed, "I find it far more likely that it was _you_ actually, probably some misguided attempt to annoy me. And as it's unlikely that we'll be able to make the door reappear without knowing why it disappeared in the first place, I think you should get your arse over here and help me!"

"You think I'd want to spend my evening in here with _you_?" Draco sneered. "No way, Granger, I had nothing to do with it. I know far easier ways to annoy you if that's what I wanted to do."

"Well, that much is certainly true," Hermione acknowledged, turning back to the wall. She'd love to continue to blame Malfoy, but the truth was he had a point. She could hardly see the logic behind ordering her out of the room and then preventing her from doing so.

Hermione scrutinized the wall yet again with out the slightest discrepancy in its surface jumping out at her. There _had_ to be something, now she just had to find it. She quickly allowed all of the information she had ever pieced together about the Room of Requirement to run through her mind, sorting through it, searching for anything that might be useful.

The problem was that there simply wasn't much to go on. The whole appeal of the Room of Requirement was that it was all very mysterious and not much was known about it, so the odds of being bothered there were minimal. Still, it had always seemed to work in a fairly predictable way and its current behavior was beyond anything Hermione had ever imagined it capable of. It was almost like…it had a mind of its own.

"Malfoy…" Hermione began cautiously, an idea that left her unsettled taking form in her mind. "What were you thinking before you came in here?"

"As if I'd tell you," Malfoy scoffed, yet remaining unable to entirely hide his curiosity. "Why?"

"Because one of us was thinking something that made it possible for us both to be in here at the same time, in the same version of the Room," Hermione mused, "And maybe that has something to do with why we're trapped in here."

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger," Malfoy said quickly, "I wasn't thinking anything about you, I can promise you that."

"Well, I certainly wasn't thinking anything about…oh!" Hermione trailed off, her face coloring and a sense of dismay settling over her.

"What?" Malfoy was still eyeing her cautiously, perhaps fearing another relapse of whatever had happened earlier and the blame that would come if she managed to die while they were stuck in there.

"I had a stray thought just before I came in," Hermione moaned, hating immensely having to admit that there was even the slightest possibility that she was to blame. "I remembered I had to give you the essay I wrote for you, to you know… to make us even."

Malfoy just stared at her in silence for a few moments and Hermione thought that this was probably the most mortified she'd ever been. She was locked in a room with Draco Malfoy, and it was because the Room thought she _wanted_ to be!

"I knew it was your fault, Granger!" He finally burst out, a shadow of anger crossing over his face.

"We don't know that!" Hermione argued, "It still doesn't explain why we're stuck in here in any case. But I just don't see why…I mean…even if I did think that…why…why would it choose to react to that stray thought rather than give me what I was asking for?"

"What are you saying, Granger?" Malfoy seemed to have reached his limit, and his face was turning progressively closer to purple.

"What if the Room of Requirement doesn't work the way we think it does?" Hermione murmured, speaking more to herself than to Malfoy as she paced back and forth quickly, her steps matching the racing pace of her thoughts. "What do we really know about it? You have to walk back and forth in front of it three times thinking about what you need, right? But what if the Room has a sort of magical…consciousness? What if it's not listening to the _words_ you think but actually picking through your brain to get to the desires themselves?"

"What's the difference?" Malfoy demanded, his eyes following Hermione's frenzied movements with trepidation.

Hermione paused in her pacing for a moment to face him.

"Haven't you ever wanted something you didn't ask for?" She asked, actually finding herself interested in his answer despite herself. Knowing the situation that he had grown up in, it wouldn't have surprised her to learn that he truly had never hesitated to demand what he wanted.

Malfoy merely shot her an annoyed glance before deciding to ask a question of his own rather than answer hers.

"So you're suggesting that the Room picks and chooses among your desires and grants which ever one it wants to?" He shook his head thoughtfully, seeming to forget some of his anger in his own interest in the problem. Hermione was actually impressed that he was giving her theory any thought at all. "I find that unlikely. Magic as powerful as the enchantments on the Room of Requirement rarely work in a random fashion."

"You're right," Hermione said slowly, a rush of possible explanations rushing through her mind. "But what if it's not random? What if the Room picks out what you need most and gives it to you, whether or not it's what you want, or think you want at least?"

Malfoy eyed her uneasily, his former swagger and teasing nowhere to be found. "You're saying that seeing _me_ was what you needed most?"

"Of course not!" Hermione exclaimed quickly, only realizing at that moment that that was one possible interpretation of her train of thought. "But what if that was just an excuse? What if the Room knew what I needed most was to discover something in this room? You're obviously not the only one who's been here. You being in here and my stray thought about the essay could just have been the excuse the Room needed to allow me in when it was already occupied…"

"If you know what's good for you, you won't poke your big nose around here, Granger!" Malfoy snarled, his fury suddenly increasing tenfold.

"I…" Hermione was shocked at his sudden change of tone. Really, she was beginning to think that one of the side effects of all that Malfoy "purity" might be some form of mood swing disorder. "Why? What were you doing in here?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Malfoy snapped, but Hermione could see he was sincerely concerned that she might press the issue.

A large part of Hermione was dying to do just that. She was a curious person by nature, and there were few things that could hold her attention like an unsolved problem or an unanswered question, and yet what could she gain by antagonizing Malfoy too far at the moment? At least for the time being they were stuck together and she wasn't likely to discover anything but Malfoy's dueling skills if she tried to search the room now.

"Ok," Hermione said finally, turning back to the wall and her examination of its surface.

"Ok?" Malfoy repeated incredulously, obviously taken by surprise by how quickly she had given up.

"Ok," Hermione repeated firmly. "I just want to get out of here."

"But…" Malfoy began.

"But what, Malfoy? You've decided you like the company now?" Hermione demanded teasingly, eager to keep his mind off any desire to kill her to keep whatever ridiculous mischief he was up to secret.

"You wish," He scoffed, "But if the room let you in because you needed to be in here for some reason…what if it won't let us out until you've figured out what that is?"

"Oh," Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding in one big whoosh of air leaving her feeling somewhat deflated. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Or what if…" Malfoy hesitated, and Hermione sensed an almost fearfulness to his tone. "The Room knew what you needed was to be kept away from something that's happening out there."

Hermione turned towards him slowly, his tone scaring her a bit in spite of herself.

"But what could possibly be happening out there?" Hermione demanded, watching his face carefully for any sign that he might be withholding something.

"Plenty," Malfoy answered dejectedly, swallowing hard as though his words were cutting off his air supply. "Time to grow up, Granger."


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:**

**I don't think I've mentioned before that I made a trailer for this story and the link can be found on my profile. **

**So at this point in the story some things from the book must be changed. Blame it on me being too lazy to find a way to keep my story completely parallel to the timeline in the book, but a few cannon events are going to be moved around. This chapter mentions a certain student being cursed and a detention of Draco's that in the book don't come until a little later than I'm placing them here. The simple reason is that in the book they take place among snow and I need warm weather for a bit longer so….sorry Ms. Rowling, but I'm going to have to change your timeline a tiny bit. **

**Oh…and I think you guys are going to like this one. Finally we might be getting somewhere…or not! :p**

Chapter 16:

**_So how can I explain the isolated rain that follows you?_****  
_But wouldn't you agree running always slows you down  
So welcome the pain  
And stop yourself from delaying it  
Cos the real life will never go away_**

Cos this is the day that everything changes  
And the world stops turning, running straight,  
Into the break lights, you've come to nothing  
This is the day that everything changes and your worlds collide  
You know in time you'll wake to find you're a little unbroken  
-"Unbroken", Missy Higgins

Draco cursed himself silently for saying anything that might hint at danger in Hogwarts. Granger and her pathetic pal Potter were suspicious enough without him adding any fuel to the fire. He quickly weighed his options trying to decide on the best strategy for throwing her off his trail or at the very least distracting her with some of his less dangerous schemes.

She continued to stare at him, all big brown eyes and slightly quivering lips, in a way that reminded Draco unpleasantly of Pansy. Why were these simpering girls always staring at him like that? Why were they always looking at him like they expected him to know the answers?

Draco fought down a wave of frustration. It was all Granger's fault that he had let the suggestion of anything dangerous slip at all. If she hadn't been working herself into a tizzy and dragging him along with her, he never would have panicked and…

Finally he'd decided that no response was the best response and had simply sat down near the object he'd been working on and refused to say anything at all. He figured that his best insurance that Granger would stay away from this area of the room was if he made sure that _he_ stayed in it.

Of course, Granger didn't take to his silent treatment well. She demanded to know what he had meant. She demanded it again while stomping her foot for effect. She demanded it a third, and a fourth, and a fifth time, and on and on and on…but Draco refused to budge. It was bloody annoying the way she could repeat a question that many times without stopping, and he was beginning to think that if the Dark Lord ever needed a really effective torture technique, being locked into a room with an agitated Granger might do the trick.

Eventually she did give up on getting an answer out of him, but she spent another hour and a half pacing in front of the blank patch of wall searching for a way out. This gave Draco plenty of time to reflect on the answer he couldn't possibly give to her.

What did she expect him to say anyway?

"Sorry, Granger, I didn't mean to frighten you, but the thing is since my first attempt at murder isn't going so well I thought I'd try out some of my back up plans. An hour or so ago I made sure a very dangerous object made its way to a place where a Hogwarts girl will retrieve it and either deliver it to my intended recipient or die trying. And if you're very lucky, Granger, and we happen to get out of here in time for the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow, you could be the one to do it?"

Draco was torn between the urge to laugh and tear out his hair at the idea of delivering that little speech to Potter's personal bookworm.

Finally, after countless minutes spent muttering to herself and occasionally attempting spells unsuccessfully on the obstinate wall, Hermione gave up for the time being and sat down as well.

Just as Draco predicted, his presence near the cabinet kept her a safe distance away from it. It was a bit annoying though, what a big show she made of choosing the farthest corner from him, knocking over at least three of the piles he had painstakingly organized in the process.

Draco forced himself to fight down his annoyance. He knew he should have been enjoying the momentary silence, but instead it just felt heavy and uncomfortable. He could only hope that she was hating this forced confinement as much as he was.

And if the loud, frustrated sighs she was letting slip every few minutes were any indication, then Draco was pretty sure she was.

"Could you stop that!?" He demanded after the 36th time she had sighed. He couldn't believe she could repeat such an ineffective gesture that many times any more than he could believe that he had actually grown bored enough to count them.

"Sorry, I don't realize I'm doing it!" She snapped.

He couldn't actually see her due to the fact that she was huddled in the far corner of the room surrounded by piles of junk, but Draco could picture the irritated expression on her face perfectly.

"Just like you didn't realize what you were doing during that little display earlier, Granger? Were you aware of that?" He prompted, edging his way around the question he really wanted to ask in the only way he knew how-irritate her until she told him what he wanted to know.

Truth be told he was incredibly curious as to what exactly that attack of hers had been all about. He would never have admitted it to her, but as soon as he got over the initial shock and fury at her intrusion he'd been terrified to see the normally annoyingly fierce Granger crumpled on the floor. And the fact that she'd been crying…well, like he'd said, he only wanted to make Granger cry if she could do it in private. He didn't do well with crying. It always reminded him of…well, things better left in the past.

That's why when she had closed her eyes and gone silent after the door had disappeared he'd felt a surge of panic that couldn't be entirely blamed on the fact that they were trapped. It wasn't that he cared about Granger, but he did care about himself and he wasn't entirely prepared to watch someone die. The last thing his nerves needed at this point was to be trapped in a room with a corpse just waiting to be discovered and sent to Azkaban to rot with his father.

So he'd done the only thing he could think of to get her to snap out of it. Draco knew Granger well enough to know that if she was in good health provoking her wouldn't be very hard. She was incredibly predictable. So he'd simply rattled off a list of insults expecting her to respond instantly. When she didn't a lump had settled in his throat and the feeling of panic had gotten worse. That's why he had progressed to the worst string of insults he could think of, not because he wanted to hurt her more but just because he wanted to make her do _something_. Luckily, it had worked and he had been able to go back to detesting her blindly. He certainly hadn't been _worried_ about her. Ridiculous idea.

Now he was having similar issues with Granger. Her refusal to answer questions when it didn't please her was really one of her most annoying traits.

For a few seconds Draco received no answer to his query about her earlier attack. Suddenly from her general direction a miniature globe was hurled at his head. He only managed to duck his head and avoid the speeding projectile by the slimmest of margins.

"Were you aware of that?" Hermione asked, her voice calm and reasonable.

"You mad, bloody…" Draco cut himself off, too shocked to come up with a proper insult. Instead he simply picked up the globe and hurled it back in her direction with as much force as he could muster.

"Hey!" She shrieked, followed quickly by the clatter of the globe hitting the ground in what he hoped was extremely close proximity to his target.

Draco allowed a small smirk of satisfaction to cross his face as he glanced in her direction. From his vantage point he could only make out a tuft of puffy hair and half of her face as she peered angrily out from amongst the piles of junk.

"You could have killed me!" She accused, eliciting a scoff from Draco.

"With my luck, Granger, you're probably indestructible," Draco shot back. "Anyway you threw it at me first!"

"Arggghh!" She shouted in frustration offering Draco the only warning he would get before she began hurling nearby objects in his direction.

He had been hit by two books and had narrowly been missed by a tiny bird cage before what was happening fully registered in Draco's mind.

"Hey!" He shouted back, truly shocked at her behavior. An hour or so locked in a room and the perfect Gryffindor completely lost her mind? "You'd better cut that out, Granger, before…"

He was interrupted by a rather ancient and extremely dusty throw pillow hitting him square in the face, sending a small explosion of feathers into the air and a large quantity of dust into his mouth.

Draco spat feathers and dust before sending a glare in her direction that would make most grown wizards squirm in their robes.

"Before I really get angry," He finished, his tone low and dangerous. He was fully prepared to launch a hex in her direction when her expression finally caught his attention. She was…_laughing_?

"You should see your face!" She giggled.

Giggled! Honestly who did she think she was! Draco did the only thing he could think to do in the face of Granger's bizarre behavior. He launched the disgusting pillow right back at her, and to his satisfaction it reached its target.

Now it was Hermione's turn to spit feathers and dust.

There was a moment of silence during which they eyed each other torn between irritation and amusement before they each simultaneously dived for more ammunition.

Draco watched a small lamp fly past him out of his peripheral vision while he launched a return attack consisting of an ancient looking box of chocolates and a picture frame who's occupants seemed to be screaming silently in fear at their sudden flight.

Granger dodged the picture frame but the box of chocolates managed to open in midair and hit her full in the chest.

Draco snickered while she glowered down at the half-melted chocolates sticking to her uniform.

"You'll be paying for that one, Malfoy!" She dove behind another stack searching for something else to attack him with no doubt.

"If your throwing is anything like your flying, I think I'll take my chances, Granger!" He shot back, searching for his own objects to retaliate with.

"A student is only as good as their teacher!" She retorted, tossing a book at him rather half-heartedly which he managed to catch without much effort.

"See what I mean, Granger?" He waved the book at her, his smirk stretching until he felt as though it might almost be an actual smile if it wasn't directed at someone like Granger. "That was just pathetic!"

The insults flew as quickly as the objects they were hurling at each other, but truth be told Draco no longer felt the animosity beneath the violent act. It was such a ridiculous situation…trapped in the Room of Requirement with Granger…that everything that happened was suddenly seeming a lot funnier than it ordinarily might.

"Jerk!"

"Crazy!"

"Idiot!"

"Pathetic!"

"Spoiled!"

"Dirty!"

"Arse!"

"Fat arse!"

"Hey! I'm not…"

Granger was apparently so distracted by his last insult that she didn't notice the small wooden box he had thrown at her. The box caught her on her temple and she made a soft noise of surprise before toppling backward, disappearing among the piles of junk that littered the room's floor.

For a few seconds that seemed to stretch on forever Draco merely stared in shock at the place where Granger's face had been. Throwing objects and insults at someone like Granger was all in good fun, but mudblood or not, he hadn't been raised to actually hurt a woman, at least not seriously. Not to mention the thought of the consequences that would come along with accidentally killing Potter's best friend were enough to send all the color draining from Draco's face as he rushed to her side.

"Granger?" He practically whispered, his voice dropping to a nearly inaudible level seemingly against his will.

She didn't respond. Bloody Hell, he'd managed to kill her.

"Granger? You alive?" He reached out hesitantly and touched her temple with one hand as softly as he could manage, sure that if he caused her anymore pain at the moment she would die just to spite him.

Still no response. Bloody. Hell.

"Granger…yoo hoo…Granger…" He continued to whisper as he bent down over her face to see if he could determine if she was even still breathing.

He leaned down even closer attempting to keep his hands from shaking as he reached out to hold his palm over her mouth. He couldn't feel anything. Did that mean she wasn't breathing? Or did it just mean that he wasn't doing it right? Wasn't this how muggles did it?

He suddenly wished he knew more about muggle healing techniques because he certainly didn't know any wizarding ones. His parents had never really let him do anything that might cause him injury as a child and any incidents that had occurred at school had been taken care of by Madam Pomfrey. Quite honestly he'd been more concerned about how to spin those injuries in his favor than memorizing the spells she used to heal him.

Panic began to set in as the seconds ticked by without any movement from the girl sprawled at his feet. Glancing around in desperation, Draco spotted the pillow they'd been throwing at each other. He grabbed it, shook out the worst of the dust, and wedged it roughly under her head.

Despite what he considered to be his rather overly gallant effort to shake out the pillow, a small cloud of dust still managed to free itself when he let her head drop onto its soft surface. Her nose twitched ever so slightly and Draco tried to ignore the surge of relief that rushed through him at that small movement. So she was alive after all!

"Granger?" He whispered again, leaning down over her once more, half-crouching in order to detect as much movement as possible. "Granger…time to wake…"

"Achoo!"

He was interrupted by a sudden and ferocious sneeze that Granger let loose right in his face.

His astonishment and disgust caused him to lose his balance and tumble backwards with surprising force, his face contorted by an expression of complete shock. It took him a few seconds to recover both his balance and his composure, but he eventually managed to right himself and return to the side of the girl he was considering more and more vile as time went on.

"I should knock you out again for that Granger!" He snapped, wiping at his face with one his hand wishing he knew a spell for sanitizing skin touched by unsavory things.

Suddenly, without warning, Granger's hand shot out and gripped his.

"Harry!" She cried, her body twisting on the ground as though she were being cursed, her eyes still squeezed tightly shut.

The image before him cut through Draco like a knife, bringing to mind memories of things he had seen done, things he could never forget. He hardly even registered that Granger was gripping his hand. Even if he had realized it more fully, for that moment at least, it wouldn't have made any difference to him at all. It didn't matter that it was Granger, he couldn't stand to see anyone like this. He had agreed to this entire terrifying scheme in order not to see his mother look exactly like Granger looked now. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to just make whatever was hurting Granger _stop_.

And it was that realization, that moment where he allowed the image of Granger thrashing on the floor to blur into an image of his mother in the same position, that caused Draco to tighten his hold on her hand rather than release it.

"Granger," His voice sounded choked and slightly high pitched to his ears as he struggled to find the words that would ease her apparent anguish. What was he supposed to do if he didn't know what was wrong? Had he hurt her that badly or was this something else entirely? Something related to her earlier episode? "Granger, it's alright. Wake up, Granger, you're fine."

She didn't seem to hear him as she continued to thrash about, her hair slapping against his knee as he crouched beside her.

"Harry! No!" She whimpered, the sound chilling Draco despite his best intentions not to care what the girl was hallucinating about.

Draco reached out toward her face hesitantly with his free hand, pausing at the last moment and letting it hover there awkwardly.

He didn't want to deal with being a good person, didn't want to deal with the consequences of attempting to comfort one of the most annoying girls on the planet. He didn't want Granger to see him showing any kind of weakness. He didn't want Pansy to look at him like he was some kind of knight in shining armor. He didn't want his mother crying over her "innocent little boy" who hadn't existed for a long time anyway. He didn't want to act like Harry "golden boy" Potter. He hadn't been born into it, he wasn't equipped for it, and it would only be against his nature not to mention deadly for him to try to be.

He just wanted to survive. _That_ was his true nature. If it hadn't been for the threats against his mother he'd be hiding in a grimy hole somewhere like the spineless slug he was, waiting the war out and just hoping neither side remembered to ask where he was.

"Harry…" She moaned again, her voice soft and tortured.

Trying very hard not to think about what he was doing, Draco allowed his hand to slowly lower the last few centimeters until it was resting against her cheek.

Her eyes flew open and her thrashing stopped. Draco felt another surge of relief as well as a rush of heat to his face.

"Granger?" He whispered hesitantly. "Are you alright?"

"I think I was dreaming…" She murmured, her eyes wide and frightened. "I need to see Harry."

"Granger…" He trailed off, unsure how much she remembered, not wanting to the bearer of bad news. "We're still trapped in here. You've only been out a minute or two."

"But I need to make sure he's ok!" She protested, shaking him off suddenly and rising shakily to her feet. "I have this awful feeling…"

He scrambled up after her awkwardly, tempted to just walk back over to his cabinet and sit down, let her figure out how ridiculous she was being all on her own.

"I need to…" She continued, her voice trailing off as she swayed unsteadily on her feet.

"Granger, I think you'd better…" Draco began, finding himself cut off by the fact that her legs went completely limp and he was forced to step forward and catch her. "Sit down." He finished exasperatedly as he lowered her rather roughly towards the floor.

"Malfoy…" She was amazingly argumentative even in her weakened state he observed rather disgustedly. "I think you were right, something terrible is happening out there…"

"You're just confused, Granger" He assured her, trying to ignore the fact that she was slumping rather against her will against his shoulder. "You took a hit to the head, and I have impeccable aim so you'll probably be a little loopy for awhile."

"I'm…" She paused to take a deep breath and Draco noted rather uneasily that he could feel each breath she took. He could also feel the slight tickle of her hair against his neck, and the warmth on the side of his body she was inadvertently pressing against. It was incredible how good she felt…no, not how good _she_ felt but how good _it_ felt just to be close to someone. He'd been so alone for so long, separated by more than just the physical from everyone around him. He felt as though he'd been wandering around in an icy haze, never getting properly warm no matter how long he sat in the bath or how many of the most expensive blankets he piled on at night. He'd become so numb to everything that the shock of having someone pressed up against him, even if it was only _Granger_…he allowed himself one deep inhale, relishing her vanilla scent and the feel of his arm shifting against her before he forced himself to remember exactly who he was allowing to touch him.

"Malfoy, I'm scared," She finished finally, attempting to sit up again before being obviously overcome by a dizzy spell and slumping back.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying to fight down the confusion and fear he was full of himself. An image of his mother swirled behind his eyelids, her familiar, loving face full of anguish as she reached out and placed her pale hand against his cheek.

"Draco, my little boy…I'm so scared, Draco…I never meant for this to happen…I'm so sorry, Draco, so very sorry."

"What am I saying?" Hermione moaned, edging away from him slightly although she still couldn't manage to break the contact entirely without falling over. "You're the last person I can trust…"

"You're probably right about that," Draco answered, his voice little more than a whisper and raw as though he had been shouting for hours. "But I'm not interested in hurting you at the moment, Granger. You're safe with me…"

He didn't finish his sentence although he had a sneaking suspicion that Granger could probably guess what he was leaving unsaid.

She was safe with him…

For now.


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry this took so long. I hope you guys enjoy it. It's a nice long one! I'm going to promise to try to update at least once a week from now on if you guys promise to try to leave reviews, even if it's short and to the point. Constructive criticism is fine too, but all I get out of this is feedback so it would be very much appreciated. To those of you faithful readers who do review, I love you guys! Enough said...on to story!**

Chapter 17:

**What we lost here is something better left alone  
Second steps have been forgotten, will you tell me how they go  
Set yourself, situate, like a fool try again  
There's no one around you can remember being good, for you  
So**

**Shame, shouldn't try you, couldn't step by you  
And open up more  
Shame, shame, shame  
Shame, shouldn't try you, couldn't step by you  
And open up more  
Shame, shame, shame**

**We never thought we'd get so troubled  
We could never think that much  
It should never get this bad**

**So let the wind blow ya, across a big floor  
But there's no one around who can tell us what we're here for  
Funny in a certain light, how we all look the same  
And there's no one in life you can remember ever stood, for you-"Shame"-Matchbox 20**

"What am I saying" Hermione moaned, edging away from him slightly although much to her dismay she still couldn't manage to break the contact entirely without falling over. "You're the last person I can trust…"

"You're probably right about that," He answered, his voice sounding strained as though it physically hurt him to be this close to her. "But I'm not interested in hurting you at the moment, Granger. You're safe with me…"

He didn't finish his sentence and she had a sneaking suspicion that she knew exactly what he was leaving unsaid.

She was safe with him…

For now.

The thing she couldn't figure out was _why_ she was safe with him even if it was only for the moment. Surely, Draco Malfoy couldn't have any reason for comforting her, for allowing her to use his body as a barrier between her and the unforgiving stone floor that could very easily have split her head open.

"On the other hand," Hermione thought, acknowledging the throbbing headache that seemed to radiate throughout her entire body, "He already pretty much split my head open, so catching me was hardly heroic."

"Hardly heroic," A smaller, but forceful voice inside of her argued, "But certainly more than he had to do, given the circumstances. Not to mention that _you_ started throwing things first…"

"Oh shut up," She groaned quietly, full of too much pain and confusion to undergo a mental debate.

"Is that how you react when anyone does something nice for you, or am I just special?" Malfoy snapped, apparently misinterpreting her words as being directed at him. Which Hermione had to admit, given the fact that they were alone, was a fair enough assumption.

Hermione blushed, too embarrassed by her apparent lack of sanity to own up to talking to her self and too embarrassed by the bad manners of it to allow Malfoy to think she'd been speaking to him.

"I…didn't mean…it must have been a reflex," She finished lamely, attempting to sit up again.

"Hmmph," He snorted, allowing her to shift away from him this time although slowing her progress a bit until she had found the wall and was leaning securely against it. "If anyone would have a reflex like that it would be you, Granger."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione demanded indignantly, more to cover her shock at Malfoy's almost gentle behavior than in actual irritation.

"It means, Granger, that you are the most ridiculous, hypocritical, _ungrateful_ person I have ever met," He answered rather matter of factly as though the whole conversation was beginning to bore him. "But given your upbringing, I can hardly say I'm surprised."

Hermione noticed that any trace of his pained whisper had disappeared, and although he remained a little hoarse, if she hadn't heard it herself she could have believed his tone had never been any different than the snobbish one she was used to.

Against her better judgment, Hermione felt herself stiffen in anger at his unaffected tone and the less than flattering picture he'd painted of her character. What he meant by "ridiculous" was anyone's guess, but ungrateful…

"Is fairly accurate given the fact that he hasn't been anything but helpful for the last ten minutes…" That same annoying inner voice reminded her.

"Fine," Hermione thought angrily, maybe she had been a tad bit ungrateful, but hypocritical?

"You're calling me a _hypocrite_?" Hermione couldn't help but ask, feeling inexplicably insulted by this particular word. She'd always made such a point of standing up for what she believed in, usually at her own expense, even when it made her own friends want nothing to do with her…so to be called a hypocrite of all things was just too much.

Would a hypocrite have stayed up all night sewing hats for house elves? Would a hypocrite have almost lost both of her best friends, one over what she had been lead to believe was an illegal use of a luck potion and the other over what in her opinion was a sinister potions' textbook? She may have believed herself to be many things, not all of them positive, but a hypocrite was not one of them.

Who did Malfoy think he was? _He_ was the hypocrite.

"You're mistaking me for yourself!" Hermione insisted, Malfoy's face blurring for a moment though she wasn't sure if her vision was blinded by anger or residual dizziness from her head injury.

"How do you figure that, Granger?" His voice had a practiced bored tone, but she could hear the barely contained resentment and annoyance threatening to break through.

"Honestly, Malfoy, how anyone goes around insisting muggleborns are incapable of proper magic when they know very well that one has gotten better marks than them every year since they were 11, and then calls someone _else_ a hypocrite, is beyond me!" Hermione ranted all in one breath, feeling utterly ridiculous for even bothering to argue _that _particular point with Malfoy.

That was it all came down to in one way or another wasn't it? Malfoy would never believe that she was worth as much as the dirt on his shoe and there was probably nothing that either of them could ever do to change that. So how could they possibly have a civil conversation lasting more than a minute or two, let alone survive a prolonged amount of time trapped together? It was all hopeless.

Hermione knew that deep down she was too stubborn and proud to ever be truly friendly or forgiving towards someone who had so little respect for her, and since Malfoy's views weren't likely to change, they were never going to get anywhere at all that didn't involve petty insults.

So _why_ was she bothering to start this argument _now_ when she knew there wasn't the slightest hope of any positive consequence?

"Because I'm every bit as daft as Malfoy says I am," Hermione berated herself silently, a sigh the only sound she couldn't stop from escaping.

"Of course _you_ would think marks in a classroom are the final word on someone's ability and understanding of magic," Malfoy scoffed in a far calmer manner than Hermione would have expected. She almost got the impression that he'd been waiting years to explain all of this to her, and maybe he had. It would be like Malfoy to think that the poor little Mudblood just needed to be educated on her inadequacies and then she would admit her own inferiority. "Did it ever occur to you that excelling at an exam has very little to do with _real_ magic?"

It was Hermione's turn to scoff.

"That sounds like the argument of the desperate to me, Malfoy," Hermione answered, confident in her assessment of Malfoy's motives and views. "If you need to tell yourself that exams don't matter because you can't keep up with my performance that's one thing, but it makes no sense at all to imply that they don't measure our skill with _real_ magic. Of course, our classes teach us _real _magic!"

"I never said that the classes didn't cover real magic, only that doing well on a test in no way proves anything about your aptitude for magic." Malfoy pointed out, twirling his wand between his fingers as though he were so sure of his point that he hardly had to pay attention in order to win the argument.

Hermione could practically feel the steam coming out of her ears, but she was also far more curious than she'd ever care to admit. She'd always wondered how the minds of bigots worked, how they actually convinced themselves that other people were beneath them based purely on their ancestry. And now here was Malfoy dangling a test case right in front of her face.

"I still don't see your point," She argued. "If you do well on an exam it's because you have mastered the magical concept you're being tested on! In theory with enough study you could master any magical skill…"

"I doubt even Pothead would agree with that, Granger," Malfoy laughed. "Let's ask him sometime, shall we? Hey Potter, do you think that with a bit of practice anyone could survive a killing curse? How about talking to snakes, could you teach me that one Pothead? Sounds like a lovely conversation to me, Granger."

Hermione could feel a blush spreading through her cheeks and fought a losing battle to convince herself that it was due to annoyance and not embarrassment at the fact that Malfoy had a point.

"That's different!" She objected stubbornly. "That's not the kind of skill I meant."

"That's what happens when you make generalizations, Granger, people prove you wrong every time." He chuckled, returning to twirling his wand.

"Oh, so the only people who are allowed to make generalizations are people like _you_?" Hermione snapped. And he had the nerve to call _her_ a hyprocrite?

"It's not making a generalization to say people who are paralyzed from the waist down can't walk. It's just a fact. Same thing with Muggleborns, Granger."

"What!?" She could hear herself shrieking but she couldn't bring herself to speak to him calmly when he was making statements like _that_. "You're comparing having non-magical parents to a serious disability?"

"I'm merely saying that certain truths are not pleasant or politically correct," He continued, seemingly unruffled by her outburst. "Just because it is not _nice_ to say that Muggleborns are different from Purebloods does not mean it isn't _true_. Certain aspects of magic cannot be taught anymore than you could learn to be taller. Even forgetting that Muggleborns come to Hogwarts completely ignorant of magical history and values, there are things that simply require a larger concentration of magic then a Muggleborn can genetically attain."

"That's…" Hermione sputtered, feeling as certain as ever that he was wrong and yet unsettled by the angle his argument was coming from. "That's ridiculous. It doesn't work like that…"

"How do you know, Granger?" He turned to face her for the first time in the past few minutes, and Hermione was shocked to see that rather than smug he looked almost sad. "Because you don't want it to work that way? Look at it like this, if you got top marks in a class on the law would that automatically make you a lawyer?"

"Well…no." Hermione admitted grudgingly. "But eventually passing a test is all takes to become a lawyer. Your theory doesn't hold up, Malfoy!"

"Ok, maybe that wasn't the best example." He admitted. "Forget the lawyer, Granger, now you're a singer."

"A singer?" Hermione repeated mockingly, certain that Malfoy was getting more and more desperate as his case fell apart.

"A singer," He nodded before diving right into his example. "So say your dream is to be a singer but you're completely tone deaf. You pay for the best music teachers, practice all day long, but at the end of the day you're still going to be tone deaf. That's the Muggles. Then there are the people who were born to sing. Lessons and practice can make them better, but even without any of that they would still be great singers because some combination of genes made sure that they were. Those are the Purebloods."

Hermione was becoming more and more uncomfortable. It wasn't that she thought Malfoy was getting close to a point or anything, but this example wasn't nearly as easy to shoot down immediately as the other one had been.

"And then there are those who aren't entirely tone deaf but they're not great either. They'll never really be _singers_ but through some stroke of genetic luck they can carry a tune enough to hum along. Through practice they can become better, but no matter what they'll never have that natural talent that allows them to sing the most beautiful arias. That's the people like you, Granger. People with enough sensitivity that they can feel and react to the magic around them, but it will never be in their _blood_."

He trailed off, and instead of rubbing his argument in her face just waited silently for her reaction.

For some reason Hermione didn't want to examine she felt close to tears. He was wrong. Of course, he was wrong. She didn't doubt that for a second. Except…no, she couldn't let his ridiculous views make her doubt herself.

Suddenly she found herself extremely tired. Her head was still throbbing, she still felt emotionally drained from her fight with Ron and Lavender, and they were _still_ trapped in this terrible room while she had a horrible feeling that something awful was going on out there…

"I'm not saying this to hurt you, Granger," Malfoy burst out suddenly as though he was trying very hard _not_ to say so. "Even I can see you do the best that you can with what magical ability you do have."

"How charitable of you," She snapped sarcastically, shaking her head in annoyance at the fact that in his mind that admitting that was probably a great kindness.

"Don't get me wrong," He added quickly, clearing his throat. "You're annoying as hell all on your own and you need to learn your place. I just thought maybe nobody had ever really explained the truth to you before and you deserved at least the chance to redeem yourself by admitting it."

"Sorry," She replied dryly. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

"I figured as much, Granger," He laughed surprising her. He suddenly seemed to be finding things funny again. "I really thought you might say that."

Hermione fought against the smile that tugged at her lips. It really wasn't funny, she couldn't see why she would laugh so she chose not to. Part of her _wanted_ to though, probably due to the head injury.

"You think you know me so well," Hermione replied when she was sure she had control over her addled brains impulses. "You think you've got it all figured out…"

"From what I've seen there's not much to figure out, Granger," He interrupted sounding mocking but not necessarily cruel. "And I can almost guarantee that even I know you better than Pothead and the Weasel do."

"Oh, sure you do," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I bet you know everything about me, right down to my favorite color…"

"Blue," He interrupted again, amusement thinly concealed under his bored disinterest. "Specifically a purpleish, periwinkle sort of blue."

Hermione could feel her jaw drop as she stared at Malfoy's satisfied smirk incredulously.

"How could you possibly know that?" She demanded.

"Here's a hint, Granger," Malfoy chuckled. "When a girl can magically change the color of her robes, there is very little reason not to wear her favorite color when the first opportunity presents itself."

"The Yule Ball," Hermione realized, her voice colored with a hint of awe an embarrassment. He'd noticed what she'd worn to the Yule Ball? He'd remembered all this time?

"I also know that you get top marks in every class except for Potions in which you trail yours truly by a fairly wide margin I must say," He continued smugly.

"Snape never gave me fair marks, and Slughorn…" Hermione protested though Malfoy showed no signs of hearing her.

"I know that in potions you line up all of your ingredients alphabetically even though it would make far more sense to categorize them by use," Malfoy continued, ticking off facts on his fingers now.

"I know that you spend so much time in the library they should name a table after you,"

"So I like to study…"

"I know that you couldn't fly to save your life-_literally_,"

"I was afraid!"

"I know that your friends ignore you as often as not,"

"That's not true!" Hermione protested loudly, although the sinking feeling in her stomach confirmed that a smaller, but still present part of her mind agreed with him to a certain extent.

"And I know that Potter and Weasley are even bigger hypocrites than you, Granger, and twice as annoying too, if that's possible." Malfoy finished finally.

"You horrid miserable jerk!" Hermione hissed fiercely, the mention of her friends bringing her guiltily back to her senses, her anger causing her stomach to clench and her entire body to tense. For one moment she'd been impressed and confused by everything he'd noticed about her over the years, but this was just too much. "How dare you talk about Harry and Ron, after everything you've done…"

"Oh come off it, Granger!" He sneered, turning to face her as fresh anger flooded his face. "Everything I've done? Calling them names? Points taken from Gryffindor? Rivals at quidditch?" He leaned towards her and Hermione could feel her heart pounding in her chest as his voice rose with every word. "It'd kids stuff. The three of you have broken more rules than I or anyone else could ever hope to achieve in your privileged years here at Hogwarts."

"But…" Hermione wanted to protest that Malfoy was wrong, but deep down she knew he wasn't. They had broken countless rules over the years. "But we only broke rules to do the right thing in the big picture!"

"And what if I told you it was the same for my friends and I?" Malfoy asked, staring at her so intensely Hermione wanted to look away though she wouldn't allow herself to do so. "What if in our minds it is the right thing in the big picture not to let you and your pals run the school and receive special treatment?"

"But…we don't…you're twisting things!" Hermione protested, unable to dispute his specific claims but knowing he was wrong nonetheless. "If we've ever received special treatment it was only to help us get out of situations no other students had to deal with! We've saved everyone here more than once from…"

"People like me?" He snapped, emotion breaking through his angry exterior.

"I didn't say that," Hermione whispered, feeling strangely guilty that she had been about to say that.

"You didn't have to, Granger," Malfoy answered. "You say I'm prejudiced but so are you. I already warned you about generalizations. I'm sorry if I don't worship the ground you three walk on like everyone else around here, but I haven't killed anyone have I?"

His throat seemed to catch at this, and he turned away for a brief moment leaving Hermione to flood with guilt once again.

She had no choice but to falter for a moment, considering his argument as the logical part of her brain demanded. Wasn't that what she'd been telling Harry so often recently? That Malfoy may be a jerk and a bully, but compared to everything else they were facing he was harmless? She shook her head, remembering one chilling incident she couldn't shrug off.

"Maybe you haven't killed anyone yet because you're too much of a coward." Hermione spat her resolve to hate him doubled.

Malfoy rounded on her, his face filled with fury. "Don't ever call me a coward!"

Hermione flinched back from his obvious rage, watching as he visibly struggled to rein in his emotions.

"How dare you call me a coward, you pathetic…"

"Mudblood?" Hermione's voice was soft but harsh, and the word sounded more powerful even to her for some reason in that moment. "You know, I remember the first time you called me that."

He seemed to shift uncomfortably under her gaze, as she felt her own expression soften from hatred to something she couldn't quite identify. She was still angry but also sad and a little scared though she would never admit that out loud. He must not have had a programmed response for that because she could see him struggling to hold on to the disdainful expression she once would have believed was second nature to him.

"It was second year and the chamber of secrets had just been opened. You looked right at me and said 'You're next Mudbloods', and you know, if I hadn't had a mirror with me, I would have died, just like you wanted." Hermione held his gaze, searching for…she didn't know what.

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger!" He burst out, seeming to surprise himself as much as her with his loss of control. "I didn't want you to…I didn't want anyone to die!" He was shouting now and she flinched again, shrinking towards the wall behind her. "All I ever heard my whole life was how muggleborns were filthy and worthless and didn't belong at Hogwarts. I already explained it to you before, but there are plenty of people in my family who believe that people like you deserve a lot more than to simply be put in their place. Maybe you can please your clueless muggle parents with a few outstanding O.W.L.'s, but in my house it takes calling someone a Mudblood, or proving how loyal you are to your pureblood name. I may know a lot about you Granger, but don't pretend that you know anything about_ me_."

Hermione studied him carefully for a moment before venturing, "So are you saying you never really believed in murdering Muggleborns?"

"What's it to you what I believe, Granger? I still think you are your precious friends are scum. Just because I didn't want you dead doesn't change anything." He suddenly seemed as exhausted as Hermione had felt a few minutes ago. She thought it looked as though all his self-assuredness was draining out of him along with the hatred he'd seemed to spew a few moments ago.

"The point is, Granger," He continued finally, his voice almost sad again. "All that stuff that made us hate each other, we were just playing at it weren't we? Compared to what's coming, what's going to happen, none of it matters."

"What's going to happen?" Hermione asked, her voice rising in fear as she considered the thought that perhaps Harry had been right after all. "Malfoy, do you know something?"

"Only what anyone with an ounce of cleverness has already worked out. There's a war coming and people _are_ going to die whether I want them to or not."

Hermione didn't know what to make of what Malfoy had said. She didn't buy his excuses, nor did she believe he had anything but disdain for her. But there was an unsettling amount of truth to his words, and he was echoing some of the same things she'd told Harry herself.

"The prove you're not a coward," She said finally. "Forget the rubbish your parents have told you and…"

"Watch it, Granger." He managed to pull a seemingly half-hearted sneer. "Like I said, nothing's changed. We're not friends."

"You've made that abundantly clear over the years, Malfoy," She replied, completely confused and drained in more ways than one.

"And you've made it abundantly clear that with you it's all or nothing!" He responded. "You are offended when I label you a hypocrite and yet you won't accept flying lessons from me just because I believe differently than you about concepts that have nothing whatsoever to do with flying."

"I won't accept flying lessons from you because it was a mistake to ask in the first place!" Hermione protested, unsettled by his accusation. "You've been cruel to me since we were 11, why would I want anything from you…"

"Because regardless of any of that I was willing to offer you help," He snapped, "So what if it was for selfish reasons? So what if it was a distraction for me and not an act of kindness? You were using me for lessons because your supposedly perfect friends couldn't be bothered and I was using you for homework, and it was working fine until your hypocritical side reared its ugly head. You didn't stop the lessons because I was cruel to you. You stopped because you were embarrassed to have to ask for help and because you put conditions on everything. If I can accept homework from a Mud…Muggleborn, then why can't you accept lessons from a Pureblood? Because you're a hypocrite, Granger."

Hermione just stared at the boy before her for a moment completely stunned. He was right. He was absolutely right, and the realization had sent her world spinning the opposite direction. Malfoy was right about her, Malfoy was right about her, Malfoy was right about her…it was like a repeating chant in her addled mind.

"You're right," She heard herself whispering.

"What?" He seemed even more shocked by her agreement than she had been.

"You're right," She repeated, meeting his eyes nervously finding nothing but confusion there. "So if I were to…apologize…would you consider…well, I still need to learn to fly."

She wasn't sure why she said this. It was true but she could have left well enough alone. Of course, Hermione never left well enough alone.

"Save the apology, Granger," He suddenly seemed to find his lap very interesting. "I don't need apologies from…well, you."

Hermione chose to ignore that.

"Well, do we have a deal again?" She asked.

He sighed, seeming torn before glancing up to meet her gaze again.

"I guess we do, Granger,"

"Excellent," She whispered, feeling extremely awkward. "Ummm…shake on it, Malfoy?" She reached out her hand tentatively regretting it almost as soon as she did so.

Malfoy eyed her hand like it was a snake about to bite him, but after a moment's hesitation he reached out and shook it quickly.

As soon as they released each other's hands a loud rumbling sound filled the room as the stones in the wall across from them rearranged themselves until the source of all their recent troubles appeared.

"The door!" They both yelled joyously, all irritation forgotten in the joy of the moment.

"But why?" Hermione wondered aloud as she struggled to stand up, fighting the residual dizziness left over from her injury.

"Why can't you ever just leave well enough alone, Granger?" Malfoy laughed, freedom apparently leaving him giddy as he reached down to help her up without even seeming to notice he was doing so.

Hermione smiled as she accepted his help without conditions for the first time.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: I know I promised to try for weekly updates. I wasn't lying! I had some unforseen difficulties geting this chapter up, but here it is better late than never. I will continue to strive for weekly updates and appreciate greatly all the reviews I recieved for the last chapter. Enjoy and please let me know what you think. I'm a little concerned about this one...please share your thoughts!!

P.S. Remember when I screwed up and gave Hermione two chapters in a row? Well, Draco shall have his revenge! ; ) This is a two parter and the next chapter will be Draco's point of view as well.

**How long an hour can take  
When youre staring into open space  
When I feel I'm slipping further away  
I remember that everyday  
I get a little bit closer to you-"Closer to you"-The Wallflowers**

Chapter 18:

Draco doubted he would ever again be as relieved at the sight of a door as he was in that moment. Being trapped in a room with Granger was annoying, and confusing, and _annoying_ and he needed to get clear of her before he lost what little sanity he had left.

True, he had agreed to give her flying lessons…again.

But that was only because…well…he wasn't sure exactly why he'd done that.

It probably had something to do with the fact that she'd completely thrown him by not only admitting she was wrong but apologizing as well. He had refused the apology of course, hadn't wanted it in the first place. But the very fact that she had offered it was a rather shocking offering of trust in Draco's opinion, she'd really opened herself up to attack and he wasn't about to let that escape his notice. Cataloguing future ammunition was second nature for a Malfoy even if it had never left him feeling this oddly before.

Of course, it also didn't escape his notice that despite the dismal start to his evening he'd eventually gotten everything he wanted.

He had managed to keep Granger from discovering the nature of his work in the room of Requirement.

He had actually gotten Granger to admit she was wrong about something.

And he had gotten his distraction back.

All in all, he could think of far worse consequences for a few hours trapped in a room with one of the most annoying witches in all of Hogwarts.

The door opened easily when he gave it a slight push and he let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. There had been a small, irrational but vocal part of his brain that had truly believed that they would be trapped in there forever.

He gestured for Hermione to go ahead of him and she smiled briefly in response before stepping around him. He grimaced behind her, realizing she probably thought of his "ladies first" behavior as some sort of chivalry or peace offering. The truth was that he just didn't trust Granger to be left in the room alone, even for the briefest of moments. He could take no chances when it came to his mission and Granger was exceedingly nosy.

And more than that, she was exceedingly _complicated_. If she wasn't asking him for flying lessons out of the blue or confiding actual _feelings_ like he was one of her sidekicks than she was displaying alarming paranoia and picking a fight with him that she couldn't possibly hope to win.

Annoying, and confusing, and _complicated_.

They may not have been positive traits, but they were positively _Granger_ traits and Draco had dealt with them far more than anyone should have to lately. And now she was smiling at him as though the fact that he chose not to leave her bludgeoned to death on the floor made them…friends.

He purposefully stepped on her heel hard, just to make sure she still knew where she stood with him.

"Ow!" She grumbled, as she stumbled forward into the hall.

Draco smirked into the almost complete darkness. Now that was more like it.

"It's so dark," She whispered, bumping into him as she tried to regain her footing and find her way further into the hall.

"No wonder they call you the brightest witch of your age," Draco scoffed, unable to resist the urge to roll his eyes even though he knew the effect would be ruined since Granger couldn't even see him anymore. "You can detect a lack of light using only your eyes!"

"I just didn't realize it would be so…" She trailed off as she bumped into him yet again this time receiving a shove in the other direction. "Cut it out Malfoy! What time is it anyway?"

Draco sighed but reached inside of his robes pulling out his pocket watch, the cool metal feeling comfortingly familiar in his palm. It had been in the family for generations and his father had presented it proudly to Draco at King's Cross the day he left for Hogwarts his first year at Hogwarts. Draco could still remember the swell of importance he'd felt as his father passed him the timepiece and the weight of his father's hand as it rested on his shoulder. For the first and perhaps last time in his life that weight had felt like a comfort rather than a burden.

Not that any of that mattered anymore. What mattered at the moment was that his pocket watch was magically equipped to be visible in any light, so he could quite easily make out the rather alarming fact that it was 4:30 in the morning.

"It's 4:30, Granger," He informed her, mentally counting backwards in an effort to account for the hours of his life he seemed to be missing. After a moment he gave up. He was surprised at how late it actually was but on the other hand he really wasn't. After all, it had felt as though he were trapped in there with Granger forever.

"4:30!?" She squealed.

Apparently it truly was that surprising to Granger.

"But that means we were in there for…we've got to be up in three hours!" She moaned from somewhere to his left.

"What are you on about, Granger?" He demanded. Her tendency to trail off in the middle of a thought only to tack on a completely unrelated one was grating on his last nerve. "Why in Merlin's name would we have to be up at 7:30 in the morning on a weekend?"

"Because it's a _Hogsmeade_ weekend!" She explained through a yawn. Apparently being aware of the time was enough to influence her fragile muggleborn brain into sudden exhaustion. "I've been looking forward to the first trip to Hogsmeade all term!"

"Oh," Draco swallowed hard trying to clear the enormous lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. Everything that had happened that night had completely distracted him from the events that he had set in motion, events that would unfold tomorrow during the Hogsmeade trip. If things went according to plan then his deal with Granger wouldn't matter anyway.

Not that he really expected anything to go according to plan these days. So far nothing he had planned had come to fruition, so why should this effort be any different? Part of him ached for it to be a success, for the permanent pain in the pit of his stomach to finally ease for the first time this year. But as much as he loathed himself for it, a large part of him also dreaded the illusive result he'd been striving for all along.

If he were successful then everything would change.

Malfoys did not thrive on change. Malfoys thrived on tradition and routine.

The Malfoys has always been a powerful family. The Malfoys had always been in Slytherin. And the Malfoys had never had to do anything that they didn't want to do.

And deep down, so deep that even he could ignore it sometimes for long periods; Draco did not_ want_ to kill…anyone.

It wasn't for some stupid, noble Gryffindor reason, he knew that much.

It was a failing rather than a virtue. Something was missing in his genetic make-up, something that had allowed his father, and his grandfather, and generations of Malfoys to protect their family and fortune by any means necessary. And if he didn't find that _something_ he was missing than it would be his life, and the lives of the precious few he loved, that would be forfeit.

So compared to that, what was it to him if some decrepit, old wizard finally died? Wasn't a 100 years enough? Wasn't Draco entitled to at least see his 17th birthday? Wasn't he entitled to have his mother be around to see it too?

It was all well and good for Potter to say that it was worth sacrificing everything for a cause when he was surrounded by Dumbledore, and a sea of teachers, and friends like Granger…but Draco was alone. Nothing stood between his mother and certain death but _him_, and he'd like to see how strong Potter's resolve would have been if he'd had to _watch_ his dear Mummy bite it.

The problem was it wasn't necessarily his target that would be killed by this attempt. Draco didn't want any…misses. And that wasn't for some stupid, noble Gryffindor reason either. It was just like he'd told Granger, he didn't give a damn about most people enough to either care for them or wish for their death. It was part of that _something_ that he was missing. He was content to put people in their place without truly punishing them for trying to rise above it.

And more than anything he didn't want to think about having to actually face death again. He'd seen it during the summer, pale, lifeless faces contorted in memory of pain. The thought of seeing someone he knew, even someone he couldn't stand, looking like _that_ was enough to turn his stomach. But what choice did he have? What could he do?

"Well, there's no point in stumbling around in the dark," Hermione saidfinally, reminding him of his presence as he heard the rustling of her robes as she searched for her wand. "Lum…"

"Don't," Draco interrupted, his voice cracking slightly in his haste.

"Why not?" She demanded, her tone impatient but curious.

The truth was that he was considering saying something to her and he didn't think he could do it if he had to stare into that smug, know it all face.

Suddenly he wasn't so sure he could say anything at all. He struggled to find that feeling of relief and confidence that had been so complete a few minutes ago when the door had appeared but it was no use.

"No reason," He muttered, "Lumos."

He wasn't prepared for just how close she was.

The light from his wand spilled across Granger's face, her surprised expression indicating that she hadn't known just how close they'd been standing either.

Draco knew that he should be stepping back, stepping away from this confusing, annoying, complication and run as fast as he could back to the dungeons and the real world of duty and dread.

But there was something strangely mesmerizing about the effect of the wand light on her face from this distance. There was a slight crease between her eyebrows and he had the most bizarre urge to reach up and smooth it out.

Refusing to act on stupid thoughts like that, he followed the line of her frizzy hair past the pink spot at her temple that marked what he was sure would be a bump in the morning, and down her jaw line.

She had a narrow chin, he noticed for the first time, and it gave her a strange heart-shaped appearance he'd never discerned before, completely different from Pansy's round face.

From her chin his eyes moved upwards to her lips and his gaze lingered there for a moment. It was strange to see Granger's lips in a stationary position. He usually saw them in a flurry of motion, spilling annoying words, or pressed into a thin point of anger or worry. If Granger would just _shut up_ once in a while, someone might notice that she had _lips_ and not just a _mouth_.

It was then that his silent observations were interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from Granger. His eyes snapped up to hers, which seemed extraordinarily large up close.

She looked shocked and disgusted and a little bit…frightened?

It was then that Draco realized what this probably looked like to her. He was standing only a few inches away from her and staring at her lips…ugh! How disgusting and delusional.

And suddenly all his hatred of her came flooding back, because _she was ruining it_.

He wasn't looking at her _that _way…he was just _looking_.

He was so used to the darkness.

He spent so much time wandering the halls after hours that sometimes the light of the common room seemed to be physically painful when he reemerged in the light.

But it was always just him and the crushing blackness. And then when he'd lit his wand…the circle of light had been small, nothing but Granger's face had been illuminated.

And for a moment there…just a moment…he wasn't alone in the darkness. He was reminded of the feeling of Granger leaning against him in the Room of Requirement after her fit. The warmth of her form pressed against his arm...the tickle of her hair against his neck…the sensation of each breath she took…and now her face, floating in the abyss.

All year it had been him and the crushing, black nothing.

But for a moment Granger had been something…for a moment Granger had been everything.

But it could have been anyone! It wasn't her that had momentarily captivated him, it was the novelty of company…a trick of the light…mental and physical exhaustion.

"As if, Granger," He scoffed, stepping back, careful to keep his wand from illuminating his own face.

"Well, goodnight Malfoy," She responded stiffly, and he heard rather than saw her spin on her heel and begin a clipped walk in the other direction after lighting her own wand.

"Granger," He called after her, making a split second decision that he would leave it up to her. If she were as clever as everyone said than she would work it out, and if not…well, it was no difference to him.

"What?" She asked hesitantly, keeping the light from her wand trained at her shoes.

"I'd steer clear of The Three Broomsticks tomorrow. You wouldn't want to interrupt the Weasel's date. You should just _keep that big, bushy head down, Granger_." He sneered.

He heard her practically sprinting away from him down the hall and refused to stare after her. It wasn't the first time he'd said those words, and it was as much of a warning as she'd ever get from him.

It _wasn't_ for some stupid, noble, Gryffindor reason.

A weight of shame settled in his stomach as he turned towards the dungeons, and he wasn't at all sure if it was due to the fact that he had attempted to warn Granger about the danger in Hogsmeade tomorrow…or because he hadn't warned her well enough.


	19. Chapter 19

**No, I'm not dead. No, this story has not been abandoned. I will not offer excuses only a nice long chapter as a peace offering...you guys still there?**

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**I need her  
I need this  
The saddest songs can sing themselves, and just sing along  
So if death's the answer, then the question is the trigger  
And I'm just the firing pin.  
Yeah I'm just a messenger  
So if death's the answer, then the question is the trigger  
And I'm just the firing pin.  
And I'm just a messenger  
Doomed to detonate on delivery-Boys Night Out**

Chapter 19:

Draco hadn't thought he'd be able to sleep at all, but despite his mind's determination to keep him awake with details of his plan and a strong sense of anxiety, his body knew better. Within five minutes of stumbling into his bed he had entered a deep if restless sleep, which left him plagued with dreams of his mother wearing the cursed necklace he had planted and his father challenging him to a duel.

He awoke in what felt to him like no more than ten minutes, but in actuality was nearly three hours later. His first thought upon waking didn't go much further than to question the pounding in his head and wonder if he had indulged in a little too much contraband fire whiskey the night before. Noting briefly that Crabbe's characteristic snores were absent, Draco burrowed further under his silk sheets fighting to fall asleep again through what he imagined to be a fairly epic hangover.

He had just started to drift off again when realization hit him with such force that he imagined it was similar to wandering into the path of the Whomping Willow. All the pieces finally snapped together like a dismal puzzle. He wasn't tired and in pain due to fire whiskey but rather too much time spent in Granger's company and the pressing sense of anxiety that his current plan had brought on. Crabbe's snoring was absent because the rest of his friends were on their way to Hogsmeade, the same location that would play host to the event Draco himself had both brought about and dreaded.

And Draco was about to be late himself…not to join his housemates in Hogsmeade, but to a detention with McGonagall, a detention that Draco had secured purposefully in order to provide a foolproof alibi for himself. He had no doubt that suspicion would fall on him. Potter, Dumbledore, even most of his teachers were more than prepared to believe him capable of anything and it only irked him further that his indignant response to that prejudice was hampered by his subconscious knowledge that they were right.

Fighting down a rising sense of panic, Draco kicked off his sheets and placed his feet unwillingly on the dungeon floor that never seemed to warm regardless of the temperature outside Hogwarts' walls. Dressing quickly and doing his best to ignore the shaking of his hands, Draco made his way to McGonagall's office, grateful for once that the sub par transfiguration professor resided such a great distance from the Slytherin dormitories. The journey up several flights of twisting staircases and down portrait-lined hallways gave Draco time not only to think but also to calm his racing pulse. He noted with no small measure of disgust that he was actually sweating slightly, his nerves frayed far more than he was willing to admit even to himself.

Finally reaching his destination with no reasonable means of putting it off becoming immediately apparent to him, he forced his features into a semblance of his usual bored sneer and knocked firmly on McGonagall's door.

"Enter Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall's voice instructed immediately, which Draco did taking in his surroundings with no small measure of disgust.

It was not his first visit to McGonagall's office, his distaste for anything associated with Gryffindor and her incessant favoritism towards Potter and his little gang ensured that Draco ended up on her bad side often enough. But despite his repeated presence there, he never ceased to notice the relics of Gryffindor pride adorning the walls or the dusty tomes that covered nearly every available surface, open to random pages as though McGonagall constantly began research on a topic and then moved on to another without completing a single task. Even in his agitated state Draco felt an intense disdain for the professor perched on the edge of her desk eyeing him over the top of her spectacles as though he were the last person she wanted to see on a Saturday morning.

He had received near perfect marks in each of his Transfiguration classes, including an Exceeds Expectations O.W.L. He had been an ideal Transfiguration student excepting the recent unavoidable lapse in homework assignments, and yet McGonagall had never remotely warmed to him, insisting instead on looking down her nose at him as though _he_ were somehow beneath _her_ notice. The unbridled arrogance of such an idea stirred up anger strong enough to break through his nerves as he shut the door behind him with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," She greeted him, her tone as well as the pursing of her lips making it incredibly clear that she did not wish him a good morning at all. "I trust there is a suitable explanation for your tardiness."

Draco had to literally bite his tongue in order to silence the heated reply he wanted to make.

"Cat got your tongue, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall inquired dryly, clearly aware of the internal struggle he was currently embroiled in.

"Of course not, Professor," Draco answered as sweetly as he could manage, unable to resist making one further comment. "_I_ don't see any cats here, Professor. Do_ you_?"

To his surprise, McGonagall only gave a small chuckle and stood to circle around her desk and sit in the ornate and uncomfortably looking straight-backed chair that stood there.

"Since you have failed to turn in your Transfiguration homework twice in a row now, you must be falling behind in your understanding of the subject. You will take this book…"

At this point she levitated one of the biggest and most dust covered volumes from a nearby table into his hands, leaving him staggering slightly under the weight and wrinkling his nose at the dirt that was now beginning to drift onto his robes.

"…and copy the first chapter onto parchment, by hand, word for word. And do make sure you are retaining some of the information, Mr. Malfoy."

"But…" He sputtered, helplessly fighting down the urge to inform her exactly what he thought about her and her family for several generations back. "What do I do after that?"

She smiled her infuriating, tight-lipped smile once more, before dropping her eyes to the pile of parchment on her desk, clearly dismissing him.

"Why, then I would think a clever boy like you would realize you should begin on chapter _two_."

Draco merely gaped at the top of her head in disbelief for a few moments; in his mind already drafting the indignant letter he would send his father.

"_Dear Father_," He composed mentally, "_It may concern you to know that students at Hogwarts, most notably your son, have been forced to transcribe ancient and most likely subversive texts. The purpose of this exercise is not only unclear but the manner in which the assignment of said task was given was belittling and insolent to myself and by extension the entire Malfoy name. I trust that you will look into a suitable punishment for this so called "professor". May I humbly suggest beheading?_"

But no, his father was locked up in Azkaban and he could expect no further aid on that front. Besides, both the elder and younger Malfoy had far greater problems at the moment than undignified detentions. So swallowing his pride and his despair at how far his family had truly fallen, Draco hauled the book over to a desk set up in the corner with a stack of parchment and quills and began his mundane task.

_The art of Transfiguration is one of the most unique and useful of the Wizarding arts. Often dismissed as merely an act of illusion creating, Transfiguration is actually far more powerful a skill than most of its' students realize. When an object, animal, or in cases of Animagi, a human subject, is transfigured it actually becomes something else rather than merely appearing to be something else. The distinction is important because although the subject of transfiguration can be returned to its original form, for the duration of its transfigured state it will have behave no differently than any other object or creature of that type. _

Draco copied paragraph after paragraph, letting the words wash over him without taking any of them in, finding the chore surprisingly soothing as time went on. It was easy enough to lose himself in the monotonous task, concentrating on the scraping sound his quill made on the parchment for hours at a time gave him surprisingly little room in his head for thoughts of anything else, even thoughts of what might have been unfolding in Hogsmeade at that very moment.

"Maybe this is why Granger always has her head buried in a book," Draco thought absentmindedly as he took a moment to reach for a new sheet of parchment. "This is boring as hell but I can see the appeal of filling your head with something unlikely to lead to your death. So much less stressful…"

_Objects that have been transfigured are not only impossible to definitively tell from true objects of that type, but such transfigurations are also only rarely breakable by a wizard or witch who did not cast the original spell, and so are prized as an excellent option for protecting objects. Rare exceptions to this rule are the extremely powerful and highly trained, usually limited to those reaching the Order of Merlin, and cases in which the original caster has died. Reports have been made mentioning cases of objects returning to their original form when put under intense and emotional scrutiny by someone closely connected to the caster of the original spell. These reports are unconfirmed, but at least one respected Wizard has theorized that this phenomenon is similar to the uncontrolled acts of magic performed by untrained and emotional wizards and witches before they have been properly trained. In part, his theory states, "Human beings are capable of the most magnificent and malevolent feats without any intention to accomplish either in advance. It is rather one of our most wonderful and dangerous traits."_

Draco paused for a moment to re-read the section he had just copied, having been vaguely interested by the few sentences he had actually taken in.

No doubt noticing the silence left by Draco's momentarily stationary quill, McGonagall broke into his thoughts abruptly.

"Learning anything, Mr. Malfoy?" She inquired, her tone reproachful, probably imagining him to be idly staring at the book as opposed to showing an interest in the text itself.

"Oh, _loads_," He answered sarcastically, annoyed at her assumption that he couldn't possibly be interested in anything academic and still resenting the assignment itself.

She raised one eyebrow at his tone and met his stare squarely until he grudgingly lowered his gaze and resumed his task. He had only written a few words, however; when his curiosity overpowered his annoyance and he put down his quill again.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall inquired in an amused tone without looking up from her work.

"This says that transfigurations can be undone by people who are emotional about it and are concentrating on it intensely. Would they have to know the object was transfigured or could they just suspect?" He asked, unable to hide the interest in his voice.

"That particular line of questioning hasn't been definitively answered, Mr. Malfoy, as I'm sure you've read. However, as I recall the work that was done on that concept supposed that the person would not have to be aware the object was possibly transfigured at all. Rather than requiring intense concentration on changing the object, the party might only have to feel an intense emotional response triggered by the object and its relation to the original spell caster. But this is all unproven, Mr. Malfoy." She explained, briskly, preparing to return to her own task.

"But…" Draco paused, attempting to organize his thoughts. "How much would you have to hate someone to subconsciously want to undo all their work?"

McGonagall looked up quickly, her face an unmasked expression of surprise for a single moment. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, I wouldn't think hate would often be strong enough to be the root of such a powerful involuntary action."

"What emotion's stronger than hate?" Draco scoffed, meaning the question to be both bitter and rhetorical.

"I should think the answer to _that_ would be obvious, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall answered with a touch of sadness and even _sympathy_ in her voice. "Love."

Draco was just about to offer up a retort along the lines of "That's what people like to think", when they were interrupted by a sudden panicked knocking on the door.

"Professor! Professor, come quick! Someone's been cursed!"

McGonagall's face was stricken as she rushed to the door and Draco could feel his own expression mirroring hers for entirely different reasons. It took all his practiced indifference to school his face into a neutral façade. If he gave McGonagall any reason at all to so much as _suspect_ something was off about his reaction…

McGonagall wrenched open the door to reveal a 2nd year Hufflepuff girl that Draco vaguely remembered had once dared to ask him for directions after noticing his Prefect badge. Draco had thought the girl had found that encounter traumatizing, but that was nothing compared to the state she was in now. She was obviously out of breath due to her haste in delivering her message and her face was red and blotchy as though she had been crying as she ran.

So something had gone wrong then…the package had not made it to the old coot's office. Surely, if it was Dumbledore who had been cursed the girl would have said so. Draco at first felt only a strong sense of annoyance and failure until he refocused on the girl's expression. _Someone's been cursed_, she had said. If someone had touched that necklace…then they were dead. There was no alternative, he had made sure of that. Draco felt as though a two ton weight had suddenly settled in his stomach, only one word echoing through his mind over and over…_who_? Divulging as few details as possible, he had made Blaise swear under pain of death to keep Pansy as far away from the Three Broomsticks as possible. Blaise knew him well enough to know when he was serious, surely he would have kept her away…but he had to _know_.

"Return to your dormitory, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall ordered absentmindedly as she practically sprinted out of the room, moving far faster than Draco would have imagined a woman her age could.

But Draco was already out of his seat, knocking over his pile of parchment in his haste. He paused only to consider which of the lesser-known routes would bring him to his destination without crossing paths with McGonagall before dashing down the hall in the opposite direction.

_Who? Who? Who?_

The question was like a mantra as he ran, keeping time with the thud of his feet and the racing of his heart. Twice he thought he might be sick, but he managed to keep himself from slowing. _He had to know who he'd killed_. He knew he should be obeying McGonagall's orders, staying as far away from the evidence of his treachery as he possibly could…but none of that mattered next to the pounding question in his head.

He reached the hospital wing in record time, skidding to a halt just around the corner from the infirmary's entrance, flattening himself against the wall and attempting to control his ragged breathing. Draco edged cautiously out into the open hallway, keeping an eye out for McGonagall or anyone else who might question his presence. Seeing no sign of anyone, he eased himself into the doorway, trying to brace himself for whatever awaited him. He wasn't prepared, however; to nearly be trampled by that oaf Hagrid who choose that exact moment to come barreling out of the Hospital Wing. Draco crushed himself against the wall in a panic, sure that this giant moron was about to drag him to Dumbledore demanding an explanation for his presence. His worries proved to be unfounded when Hagrid merely plowed by Draco muttering something about having a tea that might help.

Letting out a shaky breath, Draco slipped into the doorway once more. He saw no sign of McGonagall and guessed that she was questioning witnesses back in her office. What he did see was Madam Pomfrey frantically stirring a lavender concoction, her eyes welling up with tears as though she realized her efforts were in vain. An all too familiar sense of dread built in Draco's gut as he finally forced his gaze to the only hospital bed with an occupant. What he saw turned the blood in his veins to ice and only reminded him once more of the flaw in his make up that kept him from being immune to slight inklings of guilt. The girl's face was turned away from him, her limbs stiff and extended as though her arms and legs were tied to invisible poles, her curly brown hair spilling over the pillow and contrasting sharply with the pale, lifeless tone of her skin. It was not the shoulder length black hair he'd been half expecting, and he felt himself almost instantly freeze in a mixture of slight relief and intense shock.

_Not Pansy._ _Not Pansy. Not Pansy._

His mind was screaming at him to pay attention to some crucial piece of information he wasn't picking up on, but he was having a hard time focusing on anything but his brain's exhausted chant of relief…

_Not Pansy. Not Pansy. Not Pansy._

"Medical Consultation, St. Mungo's to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," a booming voice announced from the direction of the fireplace, breaking the trance Draco had entered and causing him to back out of the room slightly as Madam Pomfrey raced towards the fireplace.

"Oh thank, Merlin!" She cried, as she addressed the face in the flames that was blocked from Draco's view. He didn't know why she was bothering. The girl was obviously already…dead…his mind shuddered away from the word, but he knew it to be true.

He was turning to leave when he heard something that stopped him in his tracks.

"You say it was a cursed artifact? And you have recovered the object?" The booming voice asked.

"Yes, a necklace." Pomfrey answered quickly, her voice trembling. "Some of her friends witnessed the attack. Harry Potter brought the necklace back wrapped in his scarf, but I've never seen this type of malicious enchantment before…"

Draco backed out of the room as though in a daze. He felt as though he had been punched repeatedly.

_The girl was found with Harry Potter._

_The girl was one of Potter's friends. _

_Brown hair spread out on the pillow… _

"_Keep your big, bushy head down, Granger," _His mind's eye filled with an image of Granger's face in the light of his wand as his own voice echoed the words he had meant as a warning of sorts only a few short hours ago.

"I hate her," He reminded himself fiercely, stumbling off towards the dungeons. "I _hate_ her."

And he did. But he had also killed her. And the two weren't nearly as compatible as he might have once thought.

It wasn't until he had pushed past the curious inquiries from Blaise and Pansy as well as the glares from Alex and his cronies, and fallen face first onto his bed, too exhausted to move, that Draco finally let the truth break through his carefully constructed mental safety net.

_Not Pansy. Not Pansy. Not Pansy._

_Not Pansy._

_Granger. _


End file.
